The Name of the Game
by Aurora Ciel
Summary: People with abilities have been forced into hiding to escape being sent to prison camps. When Claire gets taken to one, its up to Peter and Hiro to save her. As they join with others to take down the government, sparks will fly. Peter/Claire FYG universe
1. Familiar Faces

**A/N: **I know, I know. I really need to stop coming up with new stories. But I couldn't get this one out of my head and I really like it so I'm just gonna take a chance and post it. We'll see how it goes from there.

**Disclaimer: **I own the DVDs of Heroes Season 1 and 2. Nothing else.

**Warnings: **This is Canon-Paire, which means Pairecest. If that offends you, click that little back arrow button because this is not the story for you. Spoilers for Season 1, Five Years Gone mostly, though. There will also be language, sexual situations, violence, and some possibly disturbing situations (i.e. torture).

**NOTE: **This is an AU of the Five Years Gone universe. None of Season 2 happens and what happens regarding the bomb is the same as what happened in the FYG episode. _However,_ not all of FYG takes place in my story. I'll do a recap of the parts in the episode I'm including in the first few chapters and then everything will twist away from the ending of that episode into my own plot. Hopefully that makes sense.

* * *

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter One: Familiar Faces"**

_PETER PETRELLI  
__Las Vegas  
__2011_

Peter watched quietly as his girlfriend talked to two familiar Japanese men. The conversation grew heated; Niki stood up, snapped something at Hiro, and stormed away from them. His dark hazel eyes watched her long ponytail swing back and forth as Niki walked up to the bar.

"How're the receipts tonight, Marco?" she asked the bartender, sliding into a tall barstool.

"It was a good night, ma'am," he replied, placing two glasses of whiskey in front of her.

Niki nodded, grabbing one for herself. She raised the glass to her lips, "Good."

She took a moment to hold the hard liquor in her mouth before swallowing it, feeling the burn go all the way down to her stomach. She let out a deep sigh, her forehead furrowing with worry.

She didn't even blink as the second glass slid down the bar into Peter's hand as he dissolved into visibility. He raised the glass to his lips and took a long swig.

"You don't have to be here," she said quietly, staring ahead. "I told you, I can handle it."

Peter ignored her comment, nodding his head in the direction Hiro and Ando had just left. "What'd he want?"

Niki looked over at him and arched an eyebrow. "What do you think? He's still trying to stop an exploding man…"

He narrowed his eyes. "Sylar's dead."

"I sent him off to Bennet, just let him deal," she said quickly, shaking her head.

They turned back to the flat screen TV hanging in front of them, watching quietly as the screen flashed different images of New York City five years ago. At the bottom of the screen was a small heading that read _'America Remembers'_. Images of firefighters were shown, crushed buildings, cars on fire, and people being pulled away on stretchers flashed across the screen like it was all just a distant memory. To some it was.

Not the case with Peter and Niki.

"Of all the days, huh," Peter muttered into his hand, glancing over at her.

Niki shook her head. "Today is just another day."

"You lost your son, Niki."

"It's called 'letting go'," she snapped. "Maybe you should give it a try. Or would you rather go off with your buddy and fight the pain away?"

Peter frowned, rising off his barstool and stepping towards her. "I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly, pressing his mouth to hers. He kissed down her neck before pulling back to press his forehead against hers. Niki closed her eyes and licked her lips, waiting a moment before she stood up and walked back to the dressing rooms to get ready for her next shift.

Peter looked up at the TV and his heart burned with what he saw. The image of Sylar laughing at irony on that fateful night five years ago was still engrained in his memory; seeing his picture on the screen felt no different. He clenched his jaw, telepathically yanking the television power cord out of the wall.

While Sylar's picture was no longer on the television screen, lately his face was all Peter could see.

* * *

_CLAIRE BENNET  
__Midland, Texas_

Claire frowned as she read the name on the new I.D. her father had left her.

_Madeline Brady? That sounds like a fifty year old insurance saleswoman…_ She shook her head, reminding herself how immature she was being when there were more serious things happening. She couldn't believe Nathan was doing this—accusing people with special abilities of being terrorists and sending them off to containment camps. Sometimes she had half a mind to fly up to D.C. and talk some sense into him. But then she remembered he was the one who proposed the Linderman Act four years ago in the first place and came to her senses.

She shoved the I.D. and wad of cash back in the paper bag quickly, squaring her shoulders. She couldn't leave without Andy—couldn't do this without him. Maybe she could convince him to elope to somewhere warm, like Hawaii. Then she could wait till they were alone and tell him the truth. If he loved her—really loved her, like she believed he did—he would protect her.

Claire turned around and walked straight up to Andy. She took a deep breath. "Let's elope."

Andy blinked once and looked her over. "…What?"

She smiled, hoping he would believe her. "Let's elope. Right now. Run away—I'm thinking Vegas. Pack our bags; get hitched tonight. Take off, see the world. What do you think?"

He laughed. "I think you're crazy."

"Maybe." He raised his eyebrows. "Probably."

Andy nodded his head and smiled. She dropped the fake smile and looked deep into his eyes, trying to get him trust her, to listen to her. "But I've got my reasons. And I promise I'll tell you everything."

Andy seemed to sense the change in the mood, realized that she wasn't joking. The smile disappeared from his face and he swallowed hard. "Will you do it? For me?"

The corners of his mouth quirked up as he leaned in and whispered, "I'll do anything for you." He kissed her lips. "Let me get my things."

Claire grinned. "Kay." Andy pushed past the swinging door in the kitchen and began to untie his apron.

Needing something to focus her mind on, Claire grabbed the coffee pot and turned to the customers sitting up at the counter. "Coffee?" she offered, pouring some into a man's cup.

She walked up to a man sitting at the end of the counter, his face hidden by the Burnt Toast Café menu. She noted that his coffee cup was turned down and took another step forward.

"Can I get something from you sir?" she asked breathlessly.

The man lowered his menu and Claire's eyes widened as she recognized who was sitting behind it.

"I don't know, Claire," Matt Parkman started. "What's good?"

She dropped the pot, not even feeling the glass shards shooting into her feet or the scalding coffee splashing her. Her mouth dried and her throat tightened as she took a step backwards.

"No…" she whispered.

Matt stood up, reaching for the gun strapped to his belt. He pulled it out and raised it at her. "We can do this two ways Claire, it's up to you."

"Sandra? Is everything okay? I thought I heard—" Andy walked out of the kitchen with his jacket and cowboy hat on. He froze as he saw his fiancée being held at gunpoint. He was about to reach for the shotgun they hid behind the counter when Matt pulled out a badge.

"Relax. I'm Officer Parkman, I'm with the T.R.A."

"The Terrorist Recovery Association? But Sandra's not—"

"Her name's Claire Bennet," Matt interrupted, his eyes flashing over to Andy. "And yes, she is."

Claire glanced back at Andy, tears pooling in her eyes. "I wanted to tell you…" He put his hands up when she stepped towards him.

"D-Don't touch me."

She froze. "Andy…"

"Enough Claire. Now you can come with me willingly or forcibly. Which will it be?" Matt snapped.

Claire turned back to him, narrowing her eyes. "You're gonna have to catch me first," she snapped, lifting an empty coffee pot from under the counter and smashing it against Matt's head. She pushed past Andy and bounded around the counter, shoving chairs aside as she made her way towards the front door.

Suddenly three S.W.A.T. members crashed through the front windows of the diner, guns aimed at her. Claire stopped but laughed.

"You think guns are going to stop me?" She tried to ignore the way Andy gasped.

"She's right," Matt groaned as he lifted himself up from the ground. He pulled something out of his coat pocket. "But this will."

Before Claire could duck, Matt shot a taser at her, sending an electric current through her body. She made a choking sound as she fell to the ground, pinching her eyes shut and grinding her teeth to try to block out the pain.

"Don't hurt her!" Andy shouted, grabbing the shotgun from under the counter. A S.W.A.T. member came over to him, threatening him to mind his own business.

Claire moaned as she writhed on the ground, her arms and legs were shaking. She had a sick feeling in her stomach as Matt squatted down next to her. She couldn't move her head but her eyes glanced up to see him pressing a bloody cloth up to his forehead as he glared down at her.

Darkness was blurring outside Claire's vision as subconscious slowly called to her. Everything was getting blurry and Matt shook his head at her.

"I told you we were going to get you. You just had to choose the hard way," he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. He stood up, looking over at someone in the doorway.

"Keep her secured down and heavily sedated," he ordered, waving the bloody rag around. "And get this place cleaned up."

* * *

Claire groaned as she slowly came to. Her head was pounding and the ringing in her ears wouldn't go away. She kept her eyes closed, trying to assess her situation.

She was laying down on something cold and hard—metal, most likely. Some kind of examination table? She hoped it wasn't another autopsy table.

But she could feel some kind of clothes on her body—sweatpants and a T-shirt. So it wasn't the morgue, but she could think of situations far worse than the morgue. Claire didn't notice the straps on her wrists until she tried to move them. They were padded and secured tightly to the table. Her legs were strapped down, too. Obviously whoever had her didn't want her to leave.

Claire sighed and opened her eyes, blinking quickly to adjust to the bright light shining overhead. She glanced around the room she was in to try to figure out her whereabouts.

The room was completely white. The only thing in it besides her was a small table, but Claire couldn't see what was on it.

The door opened and a bald man walked in. "Ah, I see you're awake." He removed his suit jacket and replaced it with a white overcoat. Was he some kind of doctor?

"Where am I?" Claire asked.

The man gave a little smile as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, releasing one of them with a loud snap. He flexed his fingers experimentally as he stepped towards her.

"I'm afraid that's not my information to tell, Claire. But I can tell you you're going to be here for a long time."

"Who are you?"

The man laughed. "They warned me you'd be like this. Tell me, have you ever heard the saying 'Curiosity killed the cat'?"

Claire narrowed her eyes. "You obviously know about my ability so you know that saying doesn't exactly pertain to me."

He laughed again, raising his eyebrows as he turned back towards the table. "You're smart. I like that. I like _you_, Claire. You fascinate me. …You can just call me Pat."

"So _Pat_, what do you want with me?" she spat, not bothering to hide her glare.

"Now _that_ I can answer." Claire shuddered, the way he said that made her suddenly not want to know. She could hear Pat rummaging around, several things clanked together but she couldn't tell what they were from their sound.

"You have a very unique ability, Claire. You're different from the others… _special_. I like that about you—_we_ do, actually."

"'We'?"

"My, you are clever. The government research department I work for. That's why you're here, Claire. We want to know more about you, see what makes you tick. Why you do the things you do… and how far you can go."

Claire stiffened. "That's what you want? To push me to my limits?"

Pat remained silent but she knew she had hit her target.

"You're going to kill me over and over again until one day I don't wake up?"

Pat turned around, scalpel in hand, and gave what seemed to be a reassuring smile. "Not exactly. We don't want you to die, Claire. We'll do all we can do to make sure that never happens. We just want to figure out the way things work in your body."

"Are there others here like me?"

That one seemed to surprise him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know I'm the only person who can regenerate, but are you testing on other people with abilities?"

His face remained impassive. "You don't need to worry about that. Now, let's get started. We'll start slowly—tissue repair."

Pat rolled up Claire's shirt so her stomach was revealed and pressed the scalpel up to the skin just above her navel. She instinctively moved away, stretching her body to the side as far as her restraints would let her.

"You know I can feel pain right?" The words spilled out of her mouth so quickly she wondered if he even understood what she'd said. Pat held the scalpel in midair, a small frown setting on his face.

"I'm afraid that's the downside to these experiments. We can't throw in any unnecessary factors here, so no morphine—that would throw off the data, you know?"

"This isn't just data, this is my life!" Claire shouted, wincing suddenly as the blade cut into the flesh of her belly.

She gritted her teeth, feeling the cold metal stretch all the way from one side of her stomach to the other. Pat watched with enthrallment as her tissue knitted itself back together within seconds.

"Fascinating," he murmured, his eyes shining with delight. "You have a truly remarkable ability, Claire. I've never seen anything like this."

He pressed the blade into her shoulder, sliding it all the way down to her wrist. "You bastard," she said through gritted teeth, willing herself not to cry out.

Pat was silent for a moment. Claire almost wondered if he was feeling guilty, but then she saw the look in his eyes. She could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. He met her gaze.

"Do you re-grow limbs as well?" She narrowed her eyes and refused to answer him anymore.

Pat turned back to the table and returned with a large pair of scissors. He held it up to her pinky finger and snipped it off. A noise came out of Claire's throat and her eyes watered. Pat watched as the new bone of her pinky slowly peeked out, muscle and blood vessels wrapping around it, and finally the skin and fingernail re-grew.

"I wonder…" he murmured. He walked back to the table and set the scalpel down, returning with a much bigger blade in hand.

Claire gulped. "W-What's the saw for?"

Pat didn't answer her as he placed the blade just under her right knee. She began to breathe heavily, her hands shaking as she tilted her head down to look at him.

"Please don't do this…"

Pat remained silent and placed his free hand on her knee, then pressed the blade into her flesh. Claire couldn't hold back her groans of pain as he dragged the saw back and forth, cutting into the bone.

"I'll kill you," she spat out, feeling tears slide down her cheeks. "I swear to God, I'm going to kill you."

Claire gasped as she heard a sickening snap and then suddenly she couldn't feel below her right knee anymore. Pat pulled her old limb away, looking at the bone from the inside of her leg. He glanced down at her, watching as the new bone of her leg grew outward, then formed into her new foot.

This pain was even worse than when he'd removed her leg. The bone and muscle grew slowly, then the skin and new toenails grew gradually outside. Finally it was over and Claire whimpered. She dropped her head back down onto the table with a loud thump as she panted.

Pat quickly wrote down several notes, examining her new limb. He ran his hand down her shin, fingered her toes, prodded at her toenails.

"This is remarkable." He slid the cap down on his pen, walking back towards her head. If the frown on his face or the way he smoothed her chocolate brown hair away from her forehead were supposed to comfort her, they didn't.

"Alright, Claire. We're done today. You did an excellent job." Pat pulled out a syringe and injected it into a vein at the inside of her elbow. "You can sleep now."

Claire felt her eyelids grow heavy as she slowly drifted into a haze, welcoming the painless sleep with open arms.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow. That was a lot… gorier than I'd expected. That's what I get for writing this while watching CSI: New York I guess.

Anyway, I would appreciate feedback. You can expect an update soon. If you are curious about my other new story How Long is Forever?, see my profile under Fanfic Status.


	2. Redemption For a Lost Soul

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter Two: Redemption For a Lost Soul"**

Claire groaned as faded into consciousness. She sat up in her bed, rubbing her forehead to try to soothe the ache just above her eyes. She licked her lips, frowning at the taste of bile fresh in her mouth. She reached over to her bedside table, taking a long gulp of water.

"You awake?" a voice called as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Yeah," she answered, looking down at the small vent that joined her room and the one next to it. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours? What did they do this time?"

"Acid." She shuddered, remembering the way her skin felt as it melted off of her.

"Damn. And I thought I had it bad—all they do to me is see how far I can stretch every day. My record is one football field."

Claire couldn't help but laugh. "Jeez Erika. I wonder if you can stretch around the world…"

"Um, first of all, ouch. And second, yuck. I mean, sure, being able to tell guys I can stretch any part of my anatomy has its perks, but wrapping myself around the globe? I think I'll pass."

Claire was quiet for a moment before asking, "How long do you think I've been here?"

"…Almost a week now, I think," Erika said, her voice thoughtful. "Cause I've been here for ten days and you came three days after me. So seven."

"It feels like longer," Claire said with a frown.

Erika let out a humorless laugh. "I know what you mean. I tried escaping once, you know."

Claire sat up; she wondered if Erika had failed to mention she also had the power of telepathy because she was just considering suggesting a break-out. "Really? What happened?"

A long sigh. "Well, I managed to slide under the door—don't ask for a description—and I was in this weird white hall. It seemed like an endless hallway filled with random doors. Eventually I found a stairwell, but when I opened it, I sounded off an alarm and the next thing I knew I was in this weird room that somehow prevents my molecules from stretching. I don't know how they did it."

"I guess it makes sense for them to be prepared for this kind of thing though," Claire said thoughtfully. "Break-outs, I mean. Like, I bet tons of their guinea pigs try to escape out of here. I wonder where we are, anyway…"

Erika snorted. "Who knows? We could be in the middle of the Serengeti for all I know. It's probably some kind of remote island so if there is any chance that we _do_ escape, we'll have nowhere to go."

"These people disgust me," Claire said, leaning her head back so it rested against the white wall of her holding cell. "To be okay—not okay, to be _willing_ to do these tests on human beings, like we're some kind of animal they can experiment on. It's ridiculous."

"It's people like Nathan Petrelli," Erika agreed. Claire heard her punch something in the next room. "Sick bastards who think we're diseased and want to contain us like common criminals. This is just like the Holocaust, that's what this is, Claire."

Claire frowned at the mention of her biological father. She'd chosen not to inform Erika that the man she hated most had contributed to her new friend's birth. She was ashamed to be Nathan's daughter, and hurt that he would allow her of all people to be held in a place like this. Would he let Peter be brought here as well?

She froze. Was Peter even alive? She'd been whisked off by Angela and Nathan before she could get to him, onto some Petrelli private jet and flown all the way to their beach house on the coast of South Carolina. Her last moments with him were spent yelling at him. She remembered thinking_, You lied to me Peter, I trusted you,_ making sure he heard her. She wanted him to feel the hurt that she felt by his betrayal. But she'd realized later that it wasn't really a betrayal, he just wanted comfort in his brother. In the past five years, there wasn't a day in Claire's life that she didn't feel guilty that things ended so badly between them.

"…Claire? You still there?"

Claire shook her head and cleared her throat. "Yeah, I just… I was just thinking."

Erika laughed. "I understand. Talking about this brings up a lot of old memories for me, too."

She nodded and gave a sad smile, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around. She tucked her face into her legs and hoped it was enough to muffle the sound of her crying.

_Peter, _Claire thought, _I'm so sorry._

* * *

Peter sat up in bed, glaring through the darkness at whoever was knocking. He glanced down at the clock, the glowing red letters reading 6:07 AM. Niki rolled over, brushing her long blonde hair away from her face.

"Who would be here so early?" she moaned with a raspy voice. "See what they want, will you baby?"

Peter ran a hand through his hair before climbing out of bed. He pulled a pair of black pants over his dark boxers as he padded his way through their bedroom to the door. The club was completely dark, aside from a few rays of the early morning sun peeking through the closed blinds covering the front windows.

Blinking a few times to adjust to the light, he headed towards the front door where the incessant knocking was coming from. "We're closed," he shouted through the door, leaning his head on the cool pane of glass.

"Peter, open up. It's Hiro and Ando."

Peter sighed, clenching his jaw once before turning the lock on the door and pulling it open. He wordlessly walked back into the club, hearing them shut the door behind them as they followed.

"What do you want?" he asked as he returned from his bedroom, tugging a white wife beater on. His hair hadn't been gelled back yet, so it hung loosely in his face. He tucked the dark locks behind his ears before sitting down across from the two friends. "Niki told you what you wanted to know."

"We came here for you," Hiro said quietly, blinking once. "We need your help."

Peter leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "And Niki told you, I'm not interested."

"Have you heard about the containment camps your brother has created?" the young Ando asked, placing his hands on the arm rests of his chair as he sat up. "People with abilities are being experimented on—like animals."

"Whatever my brother is doing, he has his reasons."

"You can't believe that, Peter," Hiro snapped. "The Peter I know would never have let that happen."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yeah well things change. People change."

"You can still help them, Peter," Ando insisted. "You can save these people."

"The company running these experiments are horrible people. They're funded by the government and they have no problem with the pain they're inflicting," Hiro explained.

Peter had had enough. He stood up. "You can leave the way you came in. Nothing personal, but I don't ever want to see you two in here again." And with that, he turned around to go back to bed.

"They have Claire, Peter."

He froze.

"You didn't know she was still alive, did you?"

"Nathan and my mother told me she died in the explosion," he said quietly, still refusing to turn around.

"She didn't… we found her. They have her in a camp in Utah. She's being tortured with what they're doing to her, Peter." Hiro's voice was so convincing, Peter almost found himself believing them. Long ago, he had convinced himself that he had killed the girl in the bomb, but what if he was wrong? What if his brother and mother lied to him and she really was out there? Maybe if he helped her, he could set things right…

"How?"

"What?"

"How do you know where she is?" he asked softly, finally turning around to look at them. Ando glanced over at his friend, nodding encouragingly.

"A girl," Hiro said, standing up. "Molly Walker. She's young, but she has the ability to find anyone, no matter where they are. She's been hiding out with us and happened to see our picture of Claire yesterday. She found her, Peter."

"She needs your help," Ando piped up. "Only you can save her. 'Save the cheerleader,' remember?"

"Yeah well that didn't exactly work, now did it?" Peter snapped. "In case you forgot, New York City still fucking exploded, remember?"

Ando stood up and walked towards him. "Maybe you haven't saved her yet, not in the way you're supposed to. She still needs you."

It was too much. He was so close; he could feel his resolve beginning to break. Peter's biggest regret had been that he thought he didn't save the cheerleader—not just that, he couldn't save _her_. Claire, whose smile that could be both a gleaming beacon of hope and a window of pain all at once. She'd once said that he made her feel a part of something, and she too had created that feeling of belonging for him. He knew that they had a special connection like no other and maybe, deep down, he always knew in the back of his mind that she was alive.

But it was easier to pretend. If she was dead, he wouldn't have to deal with all of it. He could shove all that into the dark recesses of his mind and never look back.

Maybe this was a sign, though. He'd always known his destiny had always been closely knitted with Claire's—maybe their story wasn't over yet. Could it be that everything happens for a reason—that the bomb was just a small stepping stone to something much greater than they'd originally expected? When Hiro told him 'Save the cheerleader, save the world,' maybe it hadn't meant at Union Wells High School.

Maybe it meant now.

Hiro and Ando could tell when he looked back up at them that they had won.

"Where is this Molly Walker?"

Hiro smiled. "I'll go get her." He closed his eyes and was gone. Ando grinned at Peter, sitting on the armrest of his chair.

"You're doing the right thing, Peter. We're going to save her, and then everything will be okay, you'll see."

Peter raised his eyebrows, his mouth quirking up into a smirk. "Is that right?"

Ando nodded his head enthusiastically. "Just you wait."

Hiro reappeared next to them, this time with a young teenage girl standing next to him. She glanced around the club, her nose wrinkling with disgust.

"Is this a strip club?" she asked, glancing up at the pole on stage.

Peter scratched the back of his head, unsure how to answer the girl. She couldn't have been more than fifteen years old, yet her eyes held more wisdom and pain than most eighty year olds. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a single braid and her clothes looked about two sizes too big.

She turned to Peter, her eyes flashing with recognition. "I know you," she said quietly. "I was there that night…"

His eyes widened as he remembered a little girl lying with Niki's family as he fought Sylar. _This_ was that same little girl? She seemed so hardened compared to the small girl who couldn't stop crying all those years ago.

"Molly, this is Peter," Hiro explained, leading her over to a small table and pulling a chair out for her to sit in. "He's going to help us rescue Claire."

"The screaming girl?"

Peter winced. He'd never known Claire to be a screamer and was afraid to think about what could make Molly refer to her like that.

Hiro nodded, pulling out an atlas. He handed Molly a pushpin and gestured to the book. Peter watched as she closed her eyes and slowly began to turn pages in the atlas. She stopped at a physical map of Utah. She set the pin down on the paper and dragged it across the page, stopping at a place called Ibapah Peak. It was just on the edge of the Great Basin, where the population was very low.

"The camp is underground—inside the mountain, I think. She's being held in some kind of room," Molly said quietly.

"Can you see anyone with her?" Hiro asked.

"There's a man. He—oh my god."

"What is it?" Ando asked.

Peter couldn't help himself. He closed his eyes and entered Molly's thoughts. Suddenly a white room entered his mind. A bald man grabbed a small blowtorch and walked over to a table. He gasped as he recognized Claire lying on the table. Her hair was dark now, but he knew those eyes anywhere.

Suddenly Claire was screaming, but he couldn't see why. All he could see was her face. He watched as tears slid down her cheeks and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. The image zoomed out then and what Peter saw made his blood run cold.

The man was holding the blowtorch up to her stomach and he was melting the flesh and muscle away. The man pulled away and watched as the skin and muscle slowly reappeared, then stopped to take notes.

It was too much for Peter; he pulled out of her thoughts so quickly it nearly knocked him out of his chair. Molly sat quietly, staring blankly ahead. Hiro and Ando looked back and forth between them, curious but knowing enough not to say anything.

Molly sniffed, clearing her throat. "You… you have to help her. This isn't the first time I've seen them doing this stuff to her. She's been through a lot of pain the last few days, I think."

Peter could feel all three pairs of eyes on him, but he remained staring down at the floor. He narrowed his eyes and felt many things—rage being the most dominant. But there was emotion he hadn't felt in years, it warmed his icy heart and gave him the courage he knew he was going to need.

He looked up at them, clenching his jaw. "I'll get my things and then let's get out of here."

Hiro nodded, placing a hand on Molly's shoulder as she stood. "We'll wait outside for you."

Peter slipped quietly into his bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. He tugged a black shirt over the wife beater he was wearing, pulling his black trench coat on over that. He took out a duffle bag from underneath an armchair that sat in the corner and began throwing random clothes into it.

Niki sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. "What's going on?" she asked quietly. Peter said nothing; he opened a drawer and pulled out a wad of cash and a fake I.D.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question, but clarification. "I thought we agreed—"

"Hiro and Ando need me, okay?" He stood up, but still couldn't face her.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded as she got out of bed, wrapping her silky robe around her thin frame. "Why do you always need to be saving people? Why do you always have to be the hero, Peter?"

"This is just something I have to do, Niki. I don't expect you to get it." He finally turned around, willing her with his eyes to understand.

Niki snorted, throwing her arms up into the air. "You've got to be kidding me. You're running off on some _quest_ now? Who the hell do you think you are, Robin Hood?"

Peter looked down. "Claire's alive, Niki," he said quietly. When he raised his gaze to meet hers, her eyes betrayed her emotion. She knew what he meant, like he knew she would. "She's in trouble. She needs me."

"And what if you can't help her?" she replied just as softly, taking a hesitant step forward. She crossed her arms defensively, glancing around before looking back at him. "Did you ever think about that?"

"Of course I did. But I have to try. She deserves at least that much from me." It pained him to see the hurt in her eyes, but there was another look of betrayal that had been eating at his soul for the past five years, and Peter knew that if this was his chance to make things right with Claire, then he would do whatever it took. He silently crossed the bedroom to the door.

"You walk out that door and you never come back," Niki snapped. Peter knew what she was trying to do, but Claire meant more to him than that. More to him than he was ready to admit, but he put that thought aside. He didn't hesitate as he walked out the front door and stepped into the early November morning.

* * *

**A/N: **Next chapter is the rescue mission. Review please!


	3. Save the Cheerleader

**A/N: **I don't think I've ever updated a story so quickly! It must be because of the mono—I have so much free time on my hands now. Pretty much all I have the energy to do is write or watch movies, which can only last so long. So then I write. And write and write and write. And sleep. Loooots of sleep.

Anyway, on with the chapter!

* * *

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter Three: Save the Cheerleader"**

Peter found his three companions standing next to the payphone out front, huddled together and whispering. Molly was speaking and, judging by the frown that appeared on her face when she glanced over at him, it was something about him. Hiro shook his head earnestly and placed a hand on her shoulder, bending down a bit to look directly into her eyes as he told her something. Her bright eyes flickered back to Peter quickly before she sighed and nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat as they walked up to him. Hiro had a look of determination on his face while Ando grinned like a high school kid about to get laid. Molly drifted behind as the two Japanese men stopped in front of him.

"So, where to?" Peter asked.

"New York."

"New York? I thought Claire was in Utah."

Hiro nodded, looking back at Molly. "We need to bring Molly and Ando home first. Plus there are some people who I think can help us."

Peter scratched the back of his head. "Are you sure we're gonna need anyone else? I mean, between our powers we're a pretty unstoppable force."

"True, but there are two people who I think could come in handy, just because we don't know what to expect," Hiro explained.

"Not to mention that you don't know what condition Claire could be in," Ando added, flinching when Peter's face darkened considerably at that addition.

"Can we get going now?" Molly asked impatiently as she rubbed her upper arms. "It's freezing out and this place creeps me out." She looked over at Peter. "No offence."

"None taken."

"Everyone grab hands," Hiro instructed. "It's a little more complicated for me to teleport three people, but it can be done." They did as he said, standing in a small circle and bowing their heads. Peter vaguely wondered what people walking by would think if they were seen, but before he knew it, there was a tugging sensation from his navel and suddenly he was somewhere else.

He glanced around with curiosity. "A subway station? That's where you're living?"

Ando nodded, leading the way through the dark tunnel to several subway cars. "The government would never think to look for us here."

"'Here'?" Peter asked. "Where exactly are we?"

"New York City," Hiro answered monotonously. Peter stiffened and looked back at him; Hiro smirked humorlessly and shrugged. He looked upwards. "They'd never think to look for us in the place that basically led to our destruction."

Peter swallowed hard, looking around he realized this station was familiar—he'd been down here countless times when he lived here. Besides walking and the occasional taxi, this was his most common means of transportation. It was in this very subway that he'd been approached by present-day Hiro to save a certain cheerleader.

The hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked over to see Hiro standing next to him. "It'll grow on you. It gets easier." The side of Peter's mouth quirked up and he nodded, briefly wondering if Hiro knew that he had actually been the bomb and not Sylar.

"Come on, there are some people that have been waiting to meet you."

He followed Hiro through one of the cars where several groups of people were huddled together. Molly walked over to a group of teenagers who greeted her happily and made room for her to sit.

Peter had to admit, he had never seen such a gathering of people with abilities. He had no idea there were so many people out there; the fact that they had managed to find each other and band together was quite the accomplishment. Hiro approached a group of women who were talking animatedly as they cleaned various weaponry.

He called to one girl wiping down the barrel of a shotgun. She had short spiky black hair with the tips died a cherry red. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leapt over the back of her seat with a gymnast's agility. She walked with Hiro up to Peter; she was so short she barely came up to his shoulders.

"Peter, this is Melody Kim. Melody, Peter Petrelli," Hiro introduced. Melody's dark eyes flashed with recognition and she smiled.

"I've heard so much about you, Peter. We've been waiting for you to come," she said, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

Peter arched an eyebrow at Hiro. "You've been waiting? So you knew I would come…"

Hiro smiled sheepishly, bowing his head a bit. "I knew once I found the right bait you would come eventually." He leaned in to whisper, "If I had known it would be this easy, I would've found her much sooner."

Peter glared in mock anger and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Well now you've got me, so what's the plan here, Commander?"

"There's one other person." Hiro turned to Molly's group of friends. "Damien!" Peter watched as a teenage boy emerged from them. He said something to Molly and she smiled as she watched his passing form.

Damien was tall, at least six feet, and had deep ebony skin. His black hair was pulled back into tight corn rows with little white beads dangling at the bottom. He ducked under a pole as he made his way over to them.

"Damien, Peter Petrelli. Peter, Damien Brown."

Damien grinned at Peter; obviously he, too, had been told stories about him. "What's up," he reached a hand out and Peter shook it. He looked back at Hiro.

"Exactly how many people did you tell about me, Hiro?"

Pixie-like Melody furrowed her brow. "Everyone knows about you and your ability, Peter. The fact that you're able to stand here with all of us and not explode is very impressive."

"I learned how to filter my powers a long time ago. I had to… to survive." After the bomb, he forced himself to. He refused to ever lose control like that again.

Damien shoved his hands into his pockets. "So, are we gonna do this or what?"

Peter looked to Hiro, awaiting the game plan. Hiro nodded; he took his time looking at the three of them before pulling out the atlas Molly had looked at before.

"Molly said that Claire is being held here," he pointed to Ibapah Peak, "in some kind of… testing facility. We need to find her holding cell and then get out of there."

"Aren't we gonna take any files or try to shut down their system or something?" Damien asked. "I mean, why are we just trying to save some girl?"

"She's not just some girl," Peter snapped, ignoring the look Hiro gave him.

Damien raised his eyebrows and put his hands up in defense. "Dang, I didn't know she was your girlfriend. Sorry…"

"She's not my girlfriend, she just… Look, it's my fault she's in there. I couldn't save her then, but I have to save her now." He frowned, hating the way he sounded so defensive. He just knew what they were all thinking…

Melody grinned. "Oh Hiro told me about that! 'Save the cheerleader, save the world.' I think it's _so _romantic!"

Peter glared at her. "Did he also mention that she's my _niece_? Or that I'm ten years older than she is?"

"No." She shrugged. "So your relationship's complicated. These days, who gives a damn, anyway? When any day could be your last, you gotta learn to appreciate what you have."

Damien looked over at the group he came from and gave a sad smile. "She's right." He turned back to Hiro, shrugging his shoulders. "So are we gonna do this or what?"

Hiro gave a curt nod, turning to Peter. "Since we both know where we're going, we can both teleport. I'll take Damien."

Peter reached out to touch Melody's shoulder, closing his eyes tightly and envisioning the testing facility he'd seen in Molly's mind. There was a brief tugging sensation on his navel and suddenly they were standing in the empty white room where he'd first seen Claire. He was amazed to see Hiro and Damien standing with them. He blinked in surprise.

"How'd you know to come here?"

Hiro shrugged. "I must've followed you somehow."

Melody narrowed her eyebrows. "Weird."

"So how do we find her?" Peter asked. Hiro turned to Melody, who smiled expectantly. He pulled out a white tank top from his pocket.

"I found this at her old house in Odessa," Hiro explained. "You should be able to get a good scent from it."

"Scent?" Peter repeated, raising his eyebrows. "As in…?"

Melody winked and suddenly she morphed into a hound dog. Its dark fur matched the shade of her hair, except for a small tuft on the forehead that was the same cherry red as the tips of her hair. She sniffed at the shirt and gave a happy yelp, turning around and standing at the door.

Hiro walked over towards the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Peter, can you turn us invisible?"

"Only if we're always touching. I don't think that would work very well."

"Well then just you will be invisible," Damien suggested. "We'll still have the element of surprise—they'll underestimate us if they don't know we have Peter Petrelli on our side."

Peter didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed by all the admiration these people held for him. If only they knew the truth about him; they probably would run in the other direction and never look back. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and quickly dissolved into invisibility.

"Just follow us, Peter. Only show yourself when the time is right," Hiro instructed. They checked the hallway before following Melody down one way. She occasionally paused in front of a door, sniffed around a bit, then shook her head up at Hiro and continued down the hall. Peter was growing frustrated; why was this taking so long? He tried reading Claire's thoughts to see if he could get any answers from that, but apparently even she didn't know where she was. She was always drugged or blindfolded when taken out of her room.

Suddenly Melody froze. She sniffed at the bottom of a door several times, then barked up at Hiro, wagging her tail excitedly. She scratched at the door and then backed away for him to open it.

Peter looked up at the plaque on the door. He frowned at what he saw.

HOLDING CELLS

Test Subjects:  
# 0518  
# 8634  
# 2261

_Authorized Personnel Only_

Hiro jiggled the doorknob. "It's locked. A little help, Peter?"

Peter nodded, realizing after that they couldn't see him. He focused his telekinesis on the doorknob and suddenly it clicked open. Damien's jaw dropped and he turned to the general vicinity he'd guessed Peter was standing in.

"Damn. Is there anything you _can't _do, Petrelli?"

They looked past the door, groaning when they saw another hallway with three more doors in it. "These must be their cells. Any idea which one is Claire's, Melody?"

The dog morphed into a young woman again after sniffing the air for a moment. "She's in the middle. Number 8634."

"Hey! Stop! Who are you?" a voice called from down the hall. They turned to see a security guard patrolling the hallway. He grabbed his walkie-talkie, "This is Harper. We've got a security breech in the West Wing, third floor."

"I've got him," Melody snarled, instantly morphing into a large black rhinoceros. The security guard's eyes widened.

"I'm gonna need back up!" he shouted, pulling out his gun. "There's a shape-shifter, possibly others with abilities. Send back up ASAP!"

Two more security guards emerged from a doorway to a stairwell, guns raised. Melody growled and snorted, pawing one of her feet on the ground. Peter turned back to the other two.

"You get Claire, I'll help Melody if she needs it."

Hiro nodded and pushed Damien through the door. "Remain invisible, Peter. We can still use that to our advantage."

He turned back to watch Melody charge at the guards. One of them fired his gun but she didn't stop. Peter used his telekinesis to grab the bullets and drop them to the ground. The guards cursed and tried firing again. It was difficult for him to block three sets of bullets, but he managed to keep nearly all of them from hitting her.

Melody swung her head and knocked one of the guards to the side. He slammed into the wall with such a force that it left a crater when he dropped to the ground unconscious. Another guard pulled out a taser gun, shooting it at her. It hardly affected her, but when a second was shot, Peter could see she was struggling.

He started running down the hall to help her, feeling adrenaline begin to pump in his veins. He hadn't allowed himself to fight since Sylar so he was determined to make this last. Melody was still able to move, just a bit tipsy as she rammed into the second guard, this time flipping him into the air.

The last guard shot at her, smirking when the leg he shot at buckled underneath her. She let out a groan of pain, but kept coming at him, trying to swing at him with the large horn on her nose.

He raised his gun at her, but was shocked when it suddenly flew out of his hands, landing several feet behind him. He looked back at her curiously, as if trying to figure out if she had telekinesis, too. Suddenly an electric current shot out of the air, sending him writhing on his knees.

Peter stepped up to him, hitting him square in the jaw. The guard didn't even see it coming—literally. Peter kicked him in the stomach and decided that would be enough to keep him down. He turned back to Melody, who had returned to her human form and was looking at the bullet wound in her thigh.

He squatted down in front of her. "Are you okay?" She jumped a bit, but looked up at where the sound of his voice came from.

"Yeah, thanks to you." She gave a shaky smile as she looked down at her leg. "Never been shot before. It's not exactly a walk in the park."

"Do you need me to carry you?"

She shook her head. "I can fly. That'll take the weight off my leg and I should be alright." She morphed into a tiny black robin. Again, there was a streak of red on top of her head.

An explosion down the hall called their attention back to the others. "What the hell?" Peter shouted, getting up and running towards it with Melody flying beside him.

By the time they'd gotten back to the holding cells, water was flooding into the hallway. Melody chirped something but Peter had no idea what that meant. He walked into the next hall and was surprised to see a large hole in the wall, pipes dripping water everywhere.

There was another large hole at the other end of the hallway. "They must've gone through there. Let's go."

They followed the trail of water until they were down another long hallway. Peter froze in shock at what he saw.

There was a large tidal wave of water being shot at two security guards, and Damien seemed to be controlling it. One of his hands was outstretched towards them, and the other one shot up to the ceiling. Suddenly all the sprinklers turned on, supplying him with more water to use.

Hiro was using his sword to fight with three more guards. Peter noticed he was guarding his upper left arm; he must've gotten hit at some point. He watched as Hiro took out two guards at once with one swipe of his blade. He had no trouble shoving the tip of his sword into the gut of the third one as well. He was surprised at this new Hiro—when had he become so rough, so hardened?

The last girl was the one that surprised Peter the most. She had completely wrapped herself around a security guard like she was a boa constrictor, squeezing the life out of him. When he turned blue and passed out, she unraveled quickly and reformed into a normal young woman. She tossed her white-blonde hair behind her shoulder, glancing worriedly down the hall.

He followed her gaze and his jaw tightened. He clenched his fists and watched two guards struggling to pull a straightjacket on a girl with dark brown hair. She bit down on one of their hands and swung her leg high into the air to kick the other one in the head. Peter was impressed; while her arms were rendered immobile by the bindings, Claire was still managing to hold her own.

The guard she'd bitten suddenly grabbed her by the throat, slamming her hard into the wall. She grunted and attempted to kick him as well. Her leg dropped back down as he tasered her, her small body convulsing as the electric current shot through her.

Peter had had enough. Forgetting to remain invisible, he focused all his telekinesis on the guard, whipping him backwards so fast that he shot completely through the wall. Claire dropped to the ground, leaning on the wall to try to steady herself. She panted heavily, glancing up at him through her hair.

"…Peter?"

"Claire."

Quick blink of the eyes and he appeared in front of her. She straightened up, tossing her head to flick her dark hair from her face. Her emerald eyes shone as she searched his face.

"Is it really you?" she asked breathlessly. Peter used his telekinesis again to undo the buckles on her straightjacket and she shoved it off hastily.

"It's really me."

And then she threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. Peter wrapped his arms around her shoulders, stroking her damp hair and tucking the side of his chin so it rested against her forehead. She mumbled incoherently as she sobbed, rubbing her face against the rough fabric of his shirt, but he didn't mind. Just being able to hold her in his arms after so long was enough for him.

"Uh, Claire? I hate to break up this tearful reunion, but we could really use you guys right now," the light haired girl shouted as she stretched to one side to avoid a bullet.

Claire sniffed and stepped away from Peter, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes as she let out an embarrassed laugh. "Sorry," she said quietly, looking up at him with glassy eyes. "I just really missed you."

Peter reached out and wiped away a stray tear from her cheek. He met her gaze and gave a small smirk. "I missed you, too."

Three gunshots rang out and Claire jerked as she was hit. Peter held onto her hands, helping her steady herself. She scrunched her eyes and the bullets popped out one by one. She turned back to the guard and glared.

"That hurt."

"Damn!" Damien called out with a laugh as he shot more water at one of the guards.

"Peter!" Hiro called out just before he was hit in the face and knocked to the ground. His sword clashed to the ground and skittered away from him. "We need to get out of here!"

Peter nodded, wrapping an arm around Claire and calling to Melody, who flew over to him. He noticed the way she dipped in the air every now and then, so held his hand out for her to rest on.

"You take the others and we'll meet you there!" he shouted to Hiro before turning to Claire. "Close your eyes and hold your breath."

She did as she was told and tucked her face into his chest. Peter closed his eyes and focused his mind on the subway station. When he reopened them, they were standing at one of the abandoned ticket booths.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around.

"New York City. In an abandoned subway station. It's their secret hideout," Peter explained, slicking his now soaking wet hair back. He glanced down at the little bird in his hand.

"Is anyone here a doctor?" Melody nodded and gestured for him to set her down. Claire gasped as the bird slowly changed into a woman, gripping her thigh as she clenched her teeth.

"His name is Rodrigo. He should be in the second car with his wife Alexis. Can you carry me there? I think I've lost too much blood to walk…" Melody quickly changed into a small gecko and crawled onto Peter's hand.

Claire laughed; he arched a brow at her. "Lizards are supposed to be really fast healers, that's why she changed into one. Ironic, though, isn't it?"

He smirked and shrugged before leading the way to the second subway car. He asked around and finally found Rodrigo, a middle-aged man wearing thick-rimmed glasses. He carried Melody away and his wife Alexis offered to help them find some dry clothes.

By now Hiro and the others had returned. Molly perked up instantly when she saw Damien and called out to him. He grinned and hugged her. The girl with Hiro looked anxiously around until she saw Claire.

Claire introduced the girl as Erika and Peter wasn't sure if he liked the look she gave him when Claire mentioned who he was. The stray thought he heard from her—_'So _this_ is him…'_—confused him greatly. Had Claire talked about him?

"Come on," Hiro urged, bringing them over to stacks of boxes. "There are clean clothes in here. Don't worry, we 'borrowed' them from a Macy's down the street so they're new."

Claire laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for rescuing me, Hiro. You're a good friend."

Peter smirked as a slight blush rose up on the Japanese man's cheeks. Hiro looked down at his hands, mumbled something and then rushed back to get his own wounds looked at. Peter glanced down at the clothes in the box, then remembered that he had packed his own bag of clothes and looked for where he'd put it.

When he finally retrieved his duffle bag, he looked for a more private place to change. There was a small cove that looked dark enough to provide him some privacy. He glanced behind his shoulder as he walked around the corner.

Peter froze at what he saw when he rounded the corner. Claire had her back turned to him, peeling the gray sweatpants down her legs to reveal a small light blue thong. Her legs were toned and tan and her ass was round and tight. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, revealing more perfect golden skin. He watched as her dark chocolate hair fell past her shoulders to rest on the planes of her back. She pulled her arms through a navy bra, clasping it in the back. When she turned around to grab her shirt, she gasped.

"Peter…"

* * *

**A/N: **Aha cliffhanger! I wonder what will happen next? Review please!!


	4. Normal Doesn't Exist Anymore

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter Four: Normal Doesn't Exist Anymore"**

_Peter froze at what he saw when he rounded the corner. Claire had her back turned to him, peeling the gray sweatpants down her legs to reveal a small light blue thong. Her legs were toned and tan and her ass was round and tight. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, revealing more perfect golden skin. He watched as her dark chocolate hair fell past her shoulders to rest on the planes of her back. She pulled her arms through a navy bra, clasping it in the back. When she turned around to grab her shirt, she gasped._

_"Peter…"_

The startling green of her eyes brought him back to reality. Eyes widening, Peter quickly turned around, pulling his hand over his face.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry. I didn't see anything, I swear."

Claire gave a shaky laugh. "It's alright, it's not like it was on purpose…"

If only she knew how many times he'd imagined her like that though. Peter clenched his jaw, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that she was his _niece_ and that he wasn't supposed to be thinking things like that, no matter how many times he noticed the way her lips were always the perfect blend between innocent pink and seductive red or the way her straightened hair would curl at the tips in the right humidity. Even now, as it dried in the cool November air, it was curling at the ends. Not quite the ringlets she used to wear, but still there was a loose wave to it.

He shook his head. Those were not good thoughts and he would no longer be having them. Not knowing what else to say to Claire, he stepped around the corner and leaned against the brick wall until she emerged from the dark cove.

She smiled softly at him as she zipped up the green sweatshirt she had found. Her jeans were way too long so she had to roll them at the cuff, frowning at the way they dragged on the damp ground of the station.

"All yours. And I promise not to peek," she added with a smirk.

He changed quickly, tossing his damp clothes into another pocket of his bag. They would dry eventually. The water had washed nearly all of the gel out of his hair, so it flipped down onto his forehead again. Peter stepped out of the shadows, blowing his hair out of his face with the side of his mouth. He turned when he heard a giggle.

Claire sauntered up to him, reaching for the long forelock and tucking it behind his ear, like he used to wear. She arched a dark eyebrow. "Peter, what have you done to your hair?"

He narrowed his eyes, taking another step closer so their bodies were nearly touching. The small amount of space that was left between them seemed to sizzle. Peter watched as Claire's emerald eyes darkened considerably, her pupils dilated as she narrowed her eyes a bit.

"What about you?" he said back to her, his voice raspy and low. He reached up, curling a damp tendril of her chocolate hair around his finger. "What happened to Goldilocks?"

The dark mischievousness in Claire's eyes faded into grief. She glanced down, watching his fingers slide through her hair. "She disappeared in the explosion."

A sharp intake of breath, he released her hair like it had burned him. Peter stepped back and scowled at nothing. He closed his eyes when he felt Claire take his hand.

"Peter, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it," he said quickly. Too quickly. Despite their five year separation, Claire knew him well enough to see right through his tough exterior. She wrapped her small, warm hands around his cold one, holding it up to her heart.

Ducking her head so it came into his view, "Peter, it wasn't your fault. You can't be so hard on yourself."

He kept his gaze down, afraid that if he looked at her she would be able to see right through him, as she was prone to do. He was afraid of how she would react if she knew that it was he who had caused so much pain and devastation. He would no longer be her hero, a notion which terrified him more than he cared to admit.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, smiled softly. "Hey, it sounds like they're getting dinner ready, and I'm starving. Let's go."

Peter had to laugh at how normal that sounded. He couldn't think of the last time he'd had a normal dinner, but Claire was alive, and with him, so he followed her silently. He let her take his hand and drag him over to the first subway car where the seats had all been remodeled so they lined the edge of the car, several card tables placed in the middle. Everyone scooted down the seats like they were a large booth, passing around pizza boxes and various other take out boxes.

"Claire, Peter, over her!" Erika called out. She pointed to the empty space in front of her and they made their way over to her. Peter allowed Claire to push him down the seats until they were in front of the pale girl.

"Look at all this food!" she said with a grin as she took a large bite of a sausage pizza. "I wonder where it comes from…"

"Usually Hiro and a small group teleport to somewhere across the country and get a bunch of food," a woman explained as she passed them plastic cups of water. "Take as much as you want."

Claire spotted some sweet and sour chicken, but frowned when she saw that the carton of it was way down at the other end of the car. Erika winked and everyone gasped as she stretched her arm all the way down there and grabbed it. She arched an eyebrow when everyone grew silent and looked down at her. "Um, excuse me?" she mumbled with a blush.

Molly laughed and suddenly everyone was talking again, seemingly forgetting the strange sight of an arm stretching across a whole subway car. Claire grinned, serving herself some chicken and happily scooping it into her mouth.

She turned to Peter. "Aren't you going to eat?"

He'd been in a daze since he'd sat down, but he quickly recovered, grabbing the first thing in front of him—a pile of McDonald's Big Macs. It had been years since he'd had fast food—college, at least—but food was food and he would take what he could get.

Peter noticed Erika watching him over the top of her cup as she drank. He pretended not to as he leaned forward and asked, "So Erika, how do you know Claire?"

Claire smiled sadly. "She was in the cell next to me. We got to talking one day and kind of bonded, I guess."

"We were each other's therapists," Erika added. "I don't know how I could've survived that place without her."

Peter looked down at his niece, feeling his hand twitch to run through her soft hair again. But he knew that was very un-uncle like and very off-limits. He would have to monitor how much he was touching her; the less, the better.

Claire must've felt his gaze. She glanced up at him as she chewed, swallowing before cheekily saying, "You sure got scruffier over the years."

He rubbed his chin as he smiled, amazed at how light and airy she could make him feel. "Makes me look tough, don't you think?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Makes you look like a hobo. And don't get me started on that hair."

He laughed, poking her in the shoulder. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Um, hello? Are we in a scene of the Godfather? I mean, please, who slicks their hair back anymore?"

"Well it was better than when it flopped in my face."

"At least _that_ was a style. And you didn't have all that stubble, either."

"Again with the stubble! What's wrong with a little facial hair?"

"It makes kissing a little uncomfortable, doesn't it?" She raised her eyebrows and he watched her gaze as it dropped to his mouth.

He arched one eyebrow and leaned in, their noses nearly touching. "Then I guess we won't be kissing," he murmured.

There it was again. That heated spark between them. They held each other's gaze for a moment, feeling their warm breaths on their mouths.

A loud cough quickly brought them out of their reverie. They looked over to see Erika raising her eyebrows as she took a sip of water. Peter cleared his throat, leaning back into his seat.

He decided that it was too cramped in this little subway car and he and Claire were sitting _way _too close together for him to be able to think straight.

He stood up, glancing down the row of people to his left and right trying to figure out the easiest way out. "I'm gonna get some air. I'll see you later."

Deciding that the old fashioned way would be too difficult, he teleported outside the subway car, walking up a flight of stairs and stepping into the night.

* * *

Peter shrugged his dark trench coat on as he walked through the half destroyed door of the subway station. He looked around the barren streets of New York City, still unable to get used to the fact that the once thriving city was reduced to a pile of rubble and old newspaper.

He leaned back against the brick wall of the station and glanced up at the sky. The stars were shining brightly tonight; he noted the Big Dipper and Orion's Belt, wishing he knew more of the constellations.

A scraggily cat crossed the street, poking around an overturned garbage can near him. Its whiskers were crooked and it looked to be covered in fleas. Its bright golden eyes blinked up at him in the darkness and for a second Peter felt like it was accusing him. Letting him know that it was his fault that this poor cat's life was like this.

He shook his head, telling himself to snap out of it, it's a damn cat for goodness' sake. But the abandoned streets didn't make him feel any better. He tried to imagine what the city would look like if it hadn't been for the explosion—he could remember the face of the hot dog vender who stood down the corner, there was a newspaper stand down the street in front of a designer clothing store, every morning the bellhop who worked at the hotel across the street told him the joke he'd read in this morning's paper.

What had happened to all those people? Had they managed to get away in time? Did they have new lives now?

Angry tears stung his eyes as he tried not to wonder if they'd even managed to survive at all. He wiped them away with the sleeve of his coat before turning around and punching the brick wall as he cursed.

He hadn't tapped into Niki's inhuman strength, so there wasn't a single mark on the wall. But his hand was a broken, bloody mess. Peter scowled as he watched the bones file back into place and the tissue knitted itself back together.

"Now did that really make you feel better?"

He turned around to see Claire standing behind him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her zip-up. She walked over to him and leaned back against the wall.

"Hitting that wall," she continued. "Did that do anything to make you feel better?"

Peter sighed and leaned back next to her. He let his head fall back onto the cool brick and took a moment to answer her. "A little," he shrugged. "I don't know any other way to let my frustration out."

He seemed have surprised her with that little admission because it took her a few moments before responding to him.

"You know," she tilted her head to look up at him and smiled. "I've always found that talking to someone makes me feel better. Bottling things up isn't healthy, Peter."

He sighed, closed his eyes, fighting an inner war with himself as he tried to decide whether or not to tell her.

"Don't you trust me?"

"You know I do." He answered her probably too quickly, but she didn't say anything about it. "It's just… you're going to hate me."

"I could never hate you. I promise." She sounded sincere, but he still was afraid. She may not hate him, but would this ruin their friendship?

"It's about that night, isn't it," she continued, turning more to face him. She leant forward. "That's what's bothering you. The bomb."

He kept his eyes closed but he was sure she could see the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed nervously. She was getting too close to the truth. He should walk away before she could figure it out. Shut her out and build up walls to keep her away for good.

"It wasn't Sylar." Not a question—a statement. He hated the way an unchecked tear had managed to roll down his cheek. Now she had her answer for sure.

Her voice wasn't more than a whisper into the night. "That's how you got that scar. You were the bomb."

Finally he broke. "Yes, okay? It was me! I was the bomb." His heart was beating wildly and his eyes couldn't seem to focus on one thing as he stepped away from the wall, away from her. He watched his breath come out in wispy clouds as he panted. He looked back up at her, glared at her for making him break down like this. "I blew up New York City. I killed all those people, I ruined all those people's lives."

He grew angry. How dare she? How dare she force him to admit this to her, when he'd worked so hard to keep it secret. How dare she remain so calm when he could barely breathe. How dare she look at him with pity. He was furious, with her, with himself, with the world.

"I'm the reason you went to that camp. If it weren't for my lack of control, you never would've had to go into hiding or lose your family or get experimented on like that. Nothing is the way it used to be and normal doesn't exist anymore. It's all _my fucking fault_, okay? Are you happy now?" And suddenly, he was more exhausted than he'd ever been in his entire life.

Peter fell to the ground, landed on his knees. He braced his hands on the cold sidewalk as he steadied his breathing, not even minding as his hair fell into his face.

Suddenly a thin pair of arms wrapped around him and he found himself being pulled up against a warm body. He allowed her to press his face into her chest. She stroked his hair, caressed his cheeks, rubbed his back. He didn't even notice when his arms circled around her middle and pulled her closer. She was whispering to him, practically cooing in his ear; he couldn't understand what she was saying, but that wasn't the point. All he could hear was her steady heartbeat and the soothing sound of her voice, and that was all that mattered in the world.

Eventually he calmed down and contented himself with just being in her arms. She was so small, so vulnerable, and yet he'd never felt so safe.

Claire pressed her lips to his hair. "Don't you feel better now?" she asked softly.

"How can you not hate me?" he whispered. "I ruined your life."

Her fingers softly combed through his hair. "No you didn't; not you. You didn't make us freaks or turn the public against us. You didn't create those stupid camps or experiment on us. None of this is your fault, Peter. You just need to remind yourself that."

Peter sighed, finally calmed down. He was emotionally drained, but he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He pulled away from her slightly so he could look at her and for the first time he noticed how much she'd grown. No longer was she the spoiled, sixteen year old cheerleader he'd met at Union Wells High School. Sitting before him was a woman—a young one, but a woman nonetheless. Her eyes showed all the pain she'd been through, but her smile had managed to stay radiant and hopeful.

He leaned up and pressed his lips against her forehead, lingering probably longer than an uncle should with his niece, but neither of them mentioned it. Nor would they ever.

"Thank you, Claire," he whispered, almost afraid if he spoke any louder he would break this moment.

She smiled softly. "Thanks for saving me today." She stood up, brushing off her jeans and offering a hand to him. "Come on, it's getting late. We should get to bed."

When they returned, a sleeping area had been set up on one of the platforms next to the railway. Mattresses, futons, and cots were lined up in rows all over. Several people were reading, others were already asleep, and some were speaking quietly in groups. Claire went over to the mattress Erika had saved for her while Peter found a small cot next to Hiro and Ando.

"Goodnight, Peter," she said quietly, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. If it was less than chaste, he wasn't going to say anything.

* * *

Peter didn't know how long he'd been lying awake, but he was sure he was the last one up. He tucked his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling, wishing he at least had something to do if he wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon. He glanced over at Hiro who was snoring slightly, hugging his sword as he rolled over.

Peter's lip quirked up on one side. Didn't that guy ever part with that sword of his?

Ando muttered something in his sleep and started chewing on his pillow. Peter snorted. He still was having trouble getting used to the old Ando being with them. He wondered when he would return to his time, if he ever would.

A noise a few feet away brought him out of his thoughts. He held his breath, waiting to hear it again. Had someone found them? He heard the noise once more, only this time he realized it was a whimper.

He quietly sat up, frowning when he saw someone tossing and turning in their bed. He realized it was Claire and practically leapt to his feet. Padding silently through the rows of slumbering people, Peter made his way over to her.

There was a worried frown on her face as she muttered something. She rolled onto her other side and cried out again. He focused his energy on her thoughts, trying to hear what was bothering her so.

His eyes widened as he realized she was having a nightmare. The bald man was burning her over and over again and there was nothing she could do. She saw numerous familiar faces walking by her and tried to call out, but she couldn't make a sound. No one could help her. She was all alone.

"Claire," he called gently, shaking her shoulder. "Claire, wake up."

She opened her eyes with a start, frantically glancing through the darkness before her eyes finally settled on his hunched form. She visibly relaxed, running a hand through her hair.

"You're safe, it was just a dream."

Claire bit her lip and nodded. "Oh Peter," she reached up and wrapped her arms around him. "It was so horrible. I can't get these images out of my head."

He stroked her hair and shushed her quietly, hoping he was soothing her. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

She nodded her head again, pulling back to wipe her tears from her face. Peter watched as she scooted back on her mattress, pulling the blankets away for him. He glanced behind him before sliding in next to her. The instant he'd laid down, Claire wrapped her arms around his torso and rested her head on his chest. He froze for a minute before bringing his arms around her as well.

Peter was amazed at how well their bodies fit together—like they were made as two pieces of a puzzle. His hand went back up to her soft hair and continued to stroke it until her breathing eventually evened out and she nuzzled her face against the fabric of his shirt.

"Peter…" she mumbled softly. It took him a moment to realize she was sleeping.

He smiled, squeezing her lightly. "I'm here, Claire," he whispered back even though he figured she probably couldn't hear him.

But she seemed to, because she smiled and pressed herself even closer to him. "My Peter," she murmured.

Peter sighed. So much for his no-touching rule.

* * *

**A/N: **I can't believe how much angst and fluff I managed to cram into that one chapter. Hopefully that was enough Paire to satisfy you. As of now, their relationship is strictly platonic with some UST, but don't worry, things will heat up soon! Please review!


	5. With Endings Come New Beginnings

**A/N: **I was inspired by the latest Heroes episode to write the next chapter, since it was so lacking in Paire. At least they were actually in the same scene for once though. And we got a nice view of shirtless Milo ;)

* * *

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter Five: With Endings Come New Beginnings"**

Peter woke up feeling calmer than he had in years. He wondered why until he looked down and saw a mass of dark hair pooled on his chest. Claire was half lying on top of him, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Their legs were tangled together and one of her bare feet was tucked into his pant leg.

Claire stirred, pressing her face into his chest before she breathed in deeply. He felt her freeze and she slowly lifted her head until their eyes met. If it were any other scenario, he surely would've laughed at the startled look in her eyes.

They just sat there for a few minutes, staring into each other's eyes until the looks of confusion and embarrassment faded into entirely different emotions. Claire pressed herself further into Peter's chest, gasping slightly when his fingers skimmed the bare skin of her waist as her shirt rode up. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she unconsciously licked her own lips.

Peter watched her, mesmerized by the glow of her skin and that familiar gleam in her eyes—one that was filled with passion and longing. He was entirely sure that his own eyes matched the look hers were giving.

He felt his heart begin to speed up as she seemed to make up her mind, began to lean forward, their lips were just a hairsbreadth away…

"Peter, Claire, are you awake?"

Claire quickly closed her eyes, subtly tucking her head down a few inches so it was resting on his shoulder. She pretended to yawn and rubbed her eyes as she looked up at Peter and jumped away from him.

They looked up at Hiro, who said nothing but his eyes spoke a thousand words. He blinked once, waited for them to wake a bit more before squatting down next to their mattress. No, not _their _mattress. Claire's. That Peter was momentarily occupying. For the time being. Yes. Right.

"What is it, Hiro?" Claire asked, smoothing out her hair and pulling it over her shoulder so she could comb through it with her fingers. They both sat up, careful not to make eye contact as they untangled their limbs and moved several inches away from each other.

Hiro glanced up at Peter. "Trouble. In Vegas."

Peter seemed to get what Hiro was saying—he was giving Peter the opportunity to keep this from Claire. Damn. Hiro really did know him better than he'd thought. He knew it was probably safer not to tell Claire what this was about, but he also wanted her to trust him and he knew that last night had been a pivotal point in their relationship. He couldn't lie to her after all that, not when she was the only person in the world who knew all his darkest secrets.

"Niki?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Who is Niki?" Claire asked softly. If she was jealous, Peter couldn't tell.

He turned back to her. "My ex-girlfriend," he said simply.

"The T.R.A. seems to have tracked her down," Hiro explained. "They haven't been able to catch her yet, but they've destroyed your club trying to get a hold of her. I think they're going to use her as bait for you, Peter."

He nodded, tucking his hair behind his ear as he stood up. "We have to go. We have to help her."

Hiro followed as he headed to a more open space. Peter looked down, he was wearing his clothes from yesterday, but they would have to do. Niki was in trouble and it was entirely his fault. He didn't have time to worry about wardrobe.

"I'll meet you there." And with that, Hiro was gone.

Peter was about to teleport back to Las Vegas when he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Claire standing behind him as she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail.

"I'm coming with you," she said matter-of-factly, her eyes daring him to tell her no.

Which is exactly what he planned to do. "It's too dangerous, Claire. I can't put you in danger because of me again."

She glared, put her hands on her hips. "In case you forgot, _I can't get hurt_. Besides, what if you need me? I might not have a cool power to help, but I've taken some kickboxing classes. I know how to fight."

Peter ran a hand through his hair. "Claire I don't have time for this. Hiro and Niki need my help. We can talk about this later, okay?"

He took a step back, quickly closing his eyes. He could just hear the glare in her voice, "Peter Petrelli, don't you dare—" At the last minute, he felt a tug on his sleeve as he was pulled to his old home.

Peter opened his eyes, glancing around at the rubble and small fires that surrounded him. An unfamiliar weight landed on his feet and he looked down to see a small form on the ground.

"Holy fuck." She slowly picked up her head, looking around before finally standing up.

He glared, yanking her by her arm towards him. "Claire, what the hell did you do?" he hissed.

She looked back at him incredulously. "I don't know," she shook her head in amazement. "I just grabbed you to try to stop you and somehow I got taken along in your," she waved her arms in front of her, "suck-y thing."

Peter groaned, running his hand through his hair. "I don't have time to deal with this, I have to find Niki." He glanced back at her, frowning slightly as he saw the forlorn look on her face. "Look, just stay here and I'll come find you, okay?"

'_Nice to see Peter still thinks of me as the sixteen year old cheerleader who always needs protecting,' _he heard randomly. Peter pretended not to notice the hurt way she glared up at him as she slid into a charred bar stool, holding her hands up and shrugging to show him she planned to stay put for him.

"I'll be back soon," he promised, rushing off into the crumbling building to find Hiro and Niki.

He could hear strange noises coming from one of the private rooms upstairs. The staircase was pretty much a charred mess, so he settled for flying upstairs and landing in the sturdiest part of the floor he could find. All around him walls were coming down; some were even knocked out completely. He could barely recognize the place he called home for five years.

"Niki!" he heard in the distance.

Peter hurried towards the sound of Hiro's voice, eventually hearing clanging metal and occasional bumps and groans. He finally found them fighting in one of the back rooms—Hiro was standing protectively in front of Niki as she struggled to hastily bandage an open wound on her bicep. Her long blonde ponytail whipped around as she finally glanced up at Peter.

He was slightly surprised by the way her icy blue eyes seemed to soften when they focused on him. There were two members of the S.W.A.T. team and a third man wearing a trench coat and holding a straightjacket. He must've been from the T.R.A.

The man's eyes widened slightly when he saw who'd entered the room. "Peter Petrelli," he said quickly. "You are under arrest for—"

Peter rolled his eyes as he flicked his hand at the man, sending him shooting back into a wall without hesitation. He turned to the other two men, watched as they nervously aimed their guns at Hiro and Niki as a warning.

"Let us take those two, and we'll let you go free," one of them reasoned.

"I don't think so," Peter growled.

He grunted as something stuck into his side and glanced over in just enough time to see an electric current shoot through the wires of the taser before it was sent into him. His whole body jerked and he dropped to the ground onto his hands and knees. He was seeing stars when the shock finally stopped.

"Fine," the T.R.A. man said smugly. "We'll just take all three of you then."

The sound of a gun clicking into place. "Like hell you will," a confident voice said. Peter looked over his shoulder to see Claire standing in the doorway, the black pistol Marco kept behind the bar in her small hands as she aimed it up at the man who held the taser gun.

"You're going to walk out of here and tell your boss that Niki was long gone by the time you got here. The place was burnt down and there was nothing left here for you," Claire continued, skillfully stepping over bits of rubble as she walked up to the man she was aiming at.

She glanced over at the two S.W.A.T. team members, nodding for them to drop their guns. They glanced back at their superior as if to get permission. As soon as they dropped their weapons, Peter stood up, yanking the anchor to the taser out of his side. He felt rather than saw the two small puncture wounds heal back to normal.

The T.R.A. man, defeated, threw his taser gun onto the floor, causing the partially sunken-in floorboards to crack even more. Claire smirked, narrowing her eyes at Peter as she passed him. He didn't need to tap into his telepathy to figure out what she was thinking—she was proving herself to him. Peter was surprised that she felt like she had to. Was she forgetting that she had—unknowingly or not—saved him just as many, if not more, times as he'd saved her?

Holding the gun a foot away from the T.R.A. man's head, she called out, "Tie them up." Peter raised his eyebrows, but did as she ordered anyway. Using his telekinesis, he found some rope and wrapped it around the two S.W.A.T. team members, making sure the knots were secure before he turned back to her.

She brought her other hand up so it supported the gun as well. "Now," she smirked, tilting her head a bit. "What should we do with you?"

"You can start by putting down your weapon and stepping away from my partner," a snide voice said from behind them.

Peter turned around and ducked just in time to dodge the taser being shot at him. It stuck into the wall and the woman who shot it tossed the gun down, not looking surprised by her loss at all. He knew they were in trouble; this woman wasn't going to underestimate them like her partner had.

Unfortunately for him, Claire seemed to realize this fact at the same time. She stepped around the man, holding the gun up to his head. It was almost comical to see her have to peek around his shoulder just so she could be visible.

The woman reached into her own trench coat, Peter knew what she was taking out before he could even see it. She aimed another taser gun at Claire and he watched as she suddenly shoved the man forward to aim her own gun at the woman. The man stumbled forward and eventually tripped, landing on the breaking point in the floor.

Peter heard a faint cracking sound before the floor suddenly dropped from underneath them. The small gap in the floor spread quickly, sucking everything and anything down like a black hole. Everything slid down to the center of the room before crashing down to the floor below it.

Before his mind could even register what was happening, Peter felt himself falling as well. By the time he was composed enough to remember the abilities he kept mentally filed away, abilities which could help him during a time like this, he'd hit the floor on the lower level.

He lay there for a few seconds, allowing everything that had just happened to process. To be honest, he was actually surprised that fall hadn't killed him. He could feel some ribs were jutting out and one of his legs was bent the wrong way. Aside from a few scratches and bruises—which would be healed within seconds—he seemed perfectly fine.

Peter sat up, pushing floorboards and other various pieces of building off of his body. He pressed his ribs back into place and turned his leg around, popping it back into its socket. When he glanced down at his arms, he wasn't surprised to find that they were perfectly healed already.

A muffled moan drew his attention to the left. A floorboard shifted and suddenly a head of chocolate brown hair was revealed. Peter sat quietly, watching as Claire slowly popped her elbow back into place, adjusted her exposed collar bone, and reset her kneecap. She calmly brushed her dark, bloody hair away from her face as she surveyed the room—assessing the damage, no doubt.

"Claire," Peter called out. Her gaze flashed over to him and she slowly stood up, taking her time as she stepped over and around various pieces of rubble on the floor.

"Are you alright?" he asked when she got closer.

She wrinkled her nose as she nodded. "I just need a shower like you wouldn't believe it."

He laughed. "Good to know. Any sign of the others?"

Claire glanced around the main room of the club again, a small frown etched on her dirty face. Peter stood up next to her, rubbing his hair to brush anything out of it. Claire coughed as dust clouded around them from Peter's hair. She gave him a teasing glare before starting over towards the center of the room.

She jumped when Hiro suddenly appeared in the room, sword extended. "Jeez," she yelped, her hand held up to her neck in surprise.

Hiro bowed slightly, "Sorry for scaring you." He looked over as he sheathed his sword, seeing Peter heading towards them. "Where's Niki?"

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. "She's not with you?"

Hiro shook his head solemnly. "She fell before I did. I teleported just before I hit the ground."

"Where were you standing?" Claire asked.

They headed over to where Hiro pointed to, pushing aside floorboards until there was nothing else to move. Claire frowned, putting her hands on her hips as she nudged a broken chair with her foot.

"Peter, maybe you can find her," Hiro suggested.

"How?" Peter asked. "I can't read her thoughts if she's unconscious."

The Japanese man shook his head. "I mean with Molly's power."

His eyes widened and he took a hesitant step backwards. "I don't think so. I've never tried it before, I don't know how to do it."

"Just close your eyes and think of her," Claire suggested.

Peter bit the side of his lip, "I don't know—"

"Peter," she interrupted, stepping towards him and placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "You can do this, I know it."

He sighed through his nose, continuing to chew his lip for a moment before he finally shrugged. "Okay, why not?" He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, imagined Niki's hardened face—her long, sleek blonde hair that was always pulled back, her icy blue eyes that were filled with grief and skepticism, her mouth that was almost always pulled in a frown.

His eyes opened again. He raised his arms and let them drop against his sides. "Nothing," he said. "I must be doing it wrong."

Claire crossed her arms, squinting into the darkness. "Ugh, it's so dark in here. I can hardly see anything. I suppose the electricity's shot, right?"

Hiro nodded, turning to Peter. "A little help?"

Peter mock glared as he raised a hand, channeling Ted Sprague, only making sure just to get the light and not the radiation. He tilted his hand outwards, shining it like a flashlight around the destructed room.

Finally Claire spotted something. "There," she pointed. They followed her as she walked over to a large table; peeking out from under it was one of Niki's powerful arms. Claire didn't need to ask Peter, he was already mentally moving the table for her—even more evidence of their uncanny connection.

She rolled Niki over so she was lying on her back, pressed two slender fingers up to Niki's neck. Her sigh gave them their answer. She looked back up at them solemnly. "That explains why you couldn't find her, Peter. Molly can only find people who are alive…"

Surprisingly, Peter only felt a little sad at the news. Maybe it was because he hadn't expected her to survive the fall, maybe it was because he knew all along that their relationship was purely physical—something to block out the pain and suffering they'd gone through. He cared about Niki, yes, considered her a valuable friend, but that was about as far as their relationship went. A small voice in the back of his mind wondered how he would be acting if it were a different woman lying there dead, but he quickly dismissed that voice as he cleared his throat.

"Let's burn this place and then get the hell out of here," he said, raising a flaming hand to the edge of the bar.

"Peter, are you sure?" Claire asked quietly. "What about Niki?"

"I wouldn't know where to bring her. She would want it this way—she can be at peace." He turned to Hiro. "You get Claire back. I'll be there as soon as I'm finished."

Hiro didn't question him, merely grabbed onto Claire's shoulder and with a quick blink they were gone. Peter ran his hand along the already charred wood of the bar, watching as pieces caught on fire. Within minutes the entire building was either aflame or crumbling apart. He stepped out into the street; as he looked back at the blazing building, he felt an eerie calm set in, knowing this was goodbye—goodbye to Niki, goodbye to that life, goodbye to the man that he was. He had new priorities now—one in particular—and he was a changed man because of it.

He didn't realize what it was until after it had happened, but Peter had just had an epiphany. He was done sitting around and moping, he could be helping these people, he could put an end to this. He knew it would be dangerous and it wasn't going to be easy, but honestly, when were the important things in life _ever_ easy?

* * *

Claire sighed contentedly as she ran a towel through her damp hair. After redressing, she headed out of the showers, thanking the man who used his ability to heat the water for her. She frowned as her chilly hair brushed against her neck—what she wouldn't do for a hairdryer.

"Maybe I can be of some assistance," a teasing voice said from behind her.

"Peter," she gasped, turning around. "I didn't even know you got back! And you had time to shower?"

He chuckled, fingering a wet lock of her hair. "I happen to take fast showers, unlike someone I know…"

Claire narrowed her eyes, tossing her towel at him. "Oh, _ha ha_. Now will you shut up and dry my hair?"

Peter gestured for her to sit down in one of the vacant chairs and he stood behind her, warming his hands a bit before running them through her dark tresses. Slowly they began to dry, landing in straightened locks against her back. Once he was done, he ran a tentative hand through her hair, combing through it until it was like silk.

Feeling her heart begin to speed up, she turned back to him. "Peter? Are you… alright?"

"Alright?"

"You know, with what happened. Niki…"

He gave a sad smile, leaning against the table as he looked down thoughtfully. "Niki and my relationship was… complicated. I cared about her, but we were never in love or anything." Claire was surprised; they were together for five years but never loved each other?

Peter must've heard her thoughts because he laughed somberly. "Like I said, complicated." He looked over at her, his dark hazel eyes holding her own in such a strong gaze that she felt breathless. She felt like he was willing her to understand something he couldn't say, but she couldn't figure out what it was. "And… I can't dwell on who I was back in Vegas or what happened in the past. There are more important things in my life now, things that I have to protect."

Her eyes widened, did he mean her? She swallowed quickly as her brain worked so rapidly it felt like there was a tornado in her head. He held her gaze for a few more seconds before he blinked, smiled softly, and tapped her nose with his fingertip. He almost seemed like he'd broken out of a trance.

"Well, I guess I should go eat, since we missed breakfast and all."

Claire watched Peter walk down to the end of the subway car where lunch was being served. She reminded herself that Peter was her uncle and any reason he had to feel the need to protect her was strictly his feeling of familial obligation. She was his niece, his ten years younger niece… she was his _responsibility_.

But then why did he look at her, hold her, touch her like there was more to it?

* * *

**A/N: **So the end of the first term of my last year in high school is coming to an end, which is why it took me so long to update. I've been busy wrapping up work and prepping for finals.

But then I got a delightful surprise in the mail today—I was accepted to the first of the colleges I applied to! I started jumping up and down and screamed as I waved my acceptance letter in my little brother's face until he yelled at me. I was in such a good mood that I knew I had to finish writing the chapter.

To be honest, I'm a little disappointed with this chapter. I rewrote the Vegas scene many times, each one with a completely different plot and turn of events, until I came to this. It probably could've been written better, but I've been struggling with this for the past few days and finally decided that this would have to do. So if the chapter seemed awkward or unorganized in some parts, I apologize.

Please review!


	6. Heartbreak and Heartache

**A/N: **Sorry for taking so long to update. Well, actually, I guess it wasn't that long because this is about the average update length of most authors. Usually myself included, but for some reason I can't stop writing Heroes.

Anyway, school has been very hectic and this weekend was Halloween so I think I get a free pass on that one for not updating. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it :)

One last minor thing: please note that my penname has changed. No reason really, I just felt like some change. The only reason I'm telling you is so you're not confused or anything—don't worry, it's still me!

* * *

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter Six: Heartbreak and Heartache"**

Claire hummed quietly to herself as she lightly brushed blush onto her cheeks. She didn't wear a lot make up, just a little foundation if necessary, blush, and mascara was all she needed. She liked the simple look, not like some of the girls on her old cheer squads who packed it on like they were afraid of who would be seen underneath. Her main reason for wearing make up at all was the fact that, being a natural blonde, she had blonde eyelashes—which, to be honest, looked a little strange.

As she blinked once slowly to apply the mascara to said blonde eyelashes, she could've sworn she'd heard a distinct thump. She froze—had the government found them? Glancing around, she saw that the bathroom was empty. Claire turned back to the mirror, tensing up slightly as she went back to her mascara.

The second time she heard the thump she whirled around, clutching the mascara wand in her hand like a dagger. "Okay, who's there?" she demanded. She was met by silence.

"Come on," she groaned. "I heard you twice; you'd better come out right now."

A sheepish little brunette appeared from around the corner of the tiled wall that blocked the view from the door to the bathroom. She gave a shy smile and tucked her brown hair behind her ear as she stepped forward.

Claire's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Molly? What are you doing?"

Molly shrugged, one arm holding on to the opposite elbow as she glanced around. "I just… I wanted to watch you…"

She winced at the stunned look on Claire's face.

"Okay, that sounded creepy. I didn't mean it like that, it's just…" She sighed, looking down at her feet. "Well, for three years I lived with Matt, and for the past two I've been living here with complete strangers. I never really had a mom-figure around to teach me stuff."

She glanced up at Claire, tilting her mouth to the side as she shrugged her shoulders. "Melody said she would teach me about make-up, but we didn't get to mascara before she got hurt. And instead of waiting for her to get better, I figured I'd just watch how you do it, since your make-up always looks so good."

Claire was surprised by how flattered she felt at Molly's admiration of her. She'd never really thought much about how to do make-up—Jackie's older sister had taught them everything she knew when they were in the seventh grade, and her mother filled in for anything else. She couldn't imagine growing up without a mom or an older sister to help her with these kinds of things.

She smiled, gesturing for the young teenager to come next to her. "I'd be happy to help you, Molly."

She showed her how to hold the mascara wand, what to do with her eyes and hands, and how to avoid getting mascara streaks on her eyelids. They discussed the do's—which shades for which eyes, when to get a new bottle, which brands are best—and don'ts—purple mascara (enough said), clumping, raccoon eyes—of eye make-up.

Molly sat on the counter next to the sink, blinking her eyes every few seconds when Claire told her to as she held the wand up to each eye. She looked up at the older girl, smiling gratefully, "Thanks so much, Claire. I swear I was the only one in my group of friends who still wasn't wearing make-up…"

Claire chuckled, twisting the cap back onto the bottle. "No problem. I was about your age when I first started wearing make-up, too. I actually started wearing it because I wanted to impress this boy—"

Molly's freshly made up eyes widened and she suddenly was looking but Claire. All the sudden Claire understood why she'd wanted to learn about this so badly. "Oh," she smiled softly, remembering not to make her feel embarrassed like adults were prone to do with this topic. "What's his name?"

A light blush crept up her neck to her face as she whispered, "Damien. He's really tall and cool and funny and smart and I really like him, but… well, it's stupid, really."

"What makes you say that?"

She sighed, shrugged her shoulders, her light green eyes finally looking back at Claire's. "I dunno. He's two years older than me, and like the cutest guy in our group of friends. All the girls like him—especially this one, Tiffany. And she could get any guy she wants. I bet he likes her."

Claire wrinkled her nose. "I think I've met Tiffany. Strawberry blonde with too much fake tanner?"

Molly nodded solemnly and scowled. "Everyone thinks she's really cool cause she can control light. Damien would pick her over me any day."

"Is Damien really tall?"

"Yeah."

"And he wears corn rows?"

"That's him."

Claire grinned and winked, leaning forward. "Cause I see him staring at _you_ all the time."

Molly's entire face light up and she sat up straighter. "Really?"

She nodded, "Oh yeah. I bet he's in to you."

Molly's smile fell and she looked down at her lap again. "I don't know though… he's two years older than me. And I know that's not really a big deal, but when you're sixteen you're so beyond fourteen…"

"Hey, look around you. We're in hiding; the government is hunting us down 24/7. For all we know, any day could be our last. What if this was the last day you'd ever see Damien again? If you have something good, why not go for it?" Claire suggested, wrapping an arm around Molly's shoulders as they walked out of the bathroom together.

The younger girl smiled and nodded. "You're totally right, Claire. I know we only met a few weeks ago, but you're like the older sister I never had."

Claire laughed. "I always wanted a younger sister. I got stuck with my brother…"

Molly grinned, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I'm gonna go show Melody. Thanks again." She turned after taking a few steps away, tucking her hands into her pockets.

"Oh and Claire?"

"Hm?"

She leaned forward conspiratorially, a mischievous look on her face. Claire took a step forward, curious about the change in her demeanor. "You might wanna take your own advice…"

Claire scrunched her eyebrows in confusion, but then the girl's light green eyes glanced over at something behind her. Or rather, someone. Claire narrowed her eyes as she turned back to Molly, who grinned.

"Mind your own business, kid," she called out, feeling a blush creep up her face as she pretended to glare. Molly stuck her tongue out and laughed as she skipped over to visit Melody. Claire pursed her lips and crossed her arms, shaking her head at the fourteen year old.

"You two sure have gotten close," a baritone voice said jokingly. Claire turned around and smiled up at Peter.

"Neither of us ever had sisters. You learn to take what you can get." Peter smiled down at her, his hazel eyes twinkling.

"What's that?" she asked, finally noticing the bag in his hands.

He held up a plastic grocery bag. "The T.R.A. knows what we look like now. Hiro suggested a slight change in appearance may help us stay under the radar."

Claire could faintly see a brightly colored box inside the plastic. "What's in the box?"

Her eyes widened as Peter pulled it out and held it up for her to see. Her jaw dropped, "You didn't…"

Peter's smirk was wicked as he winked and led the way to the bathroom.

* * *

Claire sighed for the umpteenth time as she leaned over the back of the chair she was sitting on; she arched her back and tilted her face upwards more so the water could reach the edge of her hairline better. A bit of water squirted onto her face and she groaned.

Peter chuckled, using a towel to wipe her face down. "Sorry. Almost done."

She stayed silent, but glared up at him, hoping he could tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. She couldn't believe she was letting him do this to her, the nerve of that guy—oh sure he rescued her from daily torture, but this? She wasn't sure she could handle this… Surely he was crossing the line.

Finally he reached over and shut the water off, dropping the hose they'd found onto the shower floor. He wrapped a dark towel around her dripping hair, rubbing it with his hands to help absorb the water. "Alright, take a look."

Claire stood up, pulling the towel off of her head so she could look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was still quite damp, but it was considerably lighter than before. In fact, with her hair this messy she looked pretty familiar…

"I look like I'm sixteen again," she groaned, glaring at him through the mirror. Peter stepped forward, his head nearly resting on her shoulder.

He reached up and combed his hands through her wet tresses, slowly detangling them with his fingers until her hair lay straight. "No you don't," he said softly. "Younger, yes. But definitely not sixteen. You look like Claire again."

She turned back to the mirror and frowned. "I can't believe I'm a blonde again. I hope I don't lose IQ points because of this."

Peter chuckled, stepping away from her to wash his hands in the sink. "Well, at least the government won't recognize you now. We should probably cut your hair, too. What do you think about a bob?"

Claire whirled around, clutching the ends of her hair. "A bob? Are you _serious_? I refuse to cut my hair that short!"

She froze when she saw Peter trying to keep the corners of his mouth from turning upwards. "You're teasing me," she huffed, narrowing her eyes.

His dark eyes gleamed as he leaned forward so their faces were mere inches apart. "Just a little." They stayed like that for a minute or two, just looking into each other's eyes in a comfortable silence—one not sure of what was going on, the other trying to remind himself of who exactly they were.

After a moment, Claire felt a drip of water trail down the back of her neck. She shivered a bit, which seemed to break Peter from his trance-like state. He straightened out, reaching to grab the silver pair of scissors.

"How about here?" he suggested, turning her towards the mirror and holding the scissors up so they were about an inch or two below her shoulder. "Your hair is still long but there's enough of a difference to fool the government. For a while, at least."

Claire nodded, looking up at him through the mirror. "Snip away."

She watched as locks of dark blonde hair fell to the floor, landing in piles on the tiling and making little X shapes as they crisscrossed with each other. One fell on her bare foot and she had to wiggle her toes to get it off.

When Peter was done, he ran his heated hands through her hair so it dried and straightened. When he was finished, Claire was surprised at how different she looked. Yet the same. It was an odd change for her, but she had to admit that she'd missed her golden hair. Brown was such a dark, dreary color. Blonde reminded her of sunshine and brighter times. Like the moment she met Peter.

Which reminded her…

Claire turned around, smiling wickedly as she yanked the scissors from his hands. "Payback, Petrelli."

His deep hazel eyes widened and he raised his hands in surrender. "Be nice now…"

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh I will. Now lose the shirt." She figured if she was being forced to be wet and only wearing a thin camisole, then he could suffer with her.

Her eyes widened slightly as he tugged off his black shirt, revealing a bare torso. She'd been expecting him to be wearing one of the wife beaters he usually wore to bed—to have his upper half completely naked was a whole different story. Her mouth dried up and she felt like her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth as her eyes raked over his muscled arms, his toned chest and his tight abs. She swallowed heavily as her eyes landed on the small trail of dark hair that started just below his belly button and disappeared into his jeans.

"Claire? You okay? You look a little flushed."

She snapped her eyes back up to his face, seeing his worried gaze. "Uh, yeah. Fine. Just stood up a little too quickly, I think. So, how do you want it?" She leaned Peter's head back into the sink to get his head wet, hastily drying it with a towel afterwards.

He smiled softly at her, "You pick."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, then sat perfectly still for her. Claire stepped back, biting her lip as she observed him. She was trying to imagine him with various hairstyles—not too short, he had beautiful hair and she loved it long. She remembered the way he looked the first night they met, his dark hair had been one of the first things she'd noticed about him. The way it fell into his eyes, making him look dark and mysterious. Suddenly she knew what look she wanted and parted his hair. She grabbed the scissors and selected a lock of his brown hair, cutting it with newfound confidence.

Finally she was done. His hair was parted on the side; a long hank was pulled toward his right ear, barely long enough for him to tuck it behind if wanted. Aside from the slight five o'clock shadow and the scar that crossed his face, he looked the same as the man who'd saved her five years ago.

She stepped aside so he could look at himself. Peter gave a crooked grin, "I look like I did when we met…"

"That's what I was going for," she admitted softly, feeling a light blush heat her cheeks. "For some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about that night. I've been thinking about it a lot recently, actually."

Peter smiled again, sitting up a bit in the chair he sat on. "So have I…"

Claire stepped forward so her knees were touching his. In this position, her head was barely higher than his; she leaned over him a bit so she could comb her fingers through his hair, trying to get it to fall just right. "I don't exactly know how you styled it before, but I think I got it pretty close."

He tilted his head up to look at her. "It's perfect," he whispered.

She smiled softly. "It's almost like we're those two people again. Back before any of this, before Sylar, before the Company."

His eyes softened, and she knew that he knew exactly what she meant. "Before Linderman, before the election or the bomb, before we found out what we are…"

Her hands moved so they were resting on his neck, stroking his nape slowly. She hadn't noticed his hands on her hips until his warm hands came into contact with the small strip of her skin where her shirt had risen up. "You thought you had to save Jackie."

His fingers pressed into the bare skin of her hips. "But it was you. You were the cheerleader…"

Their voices were barely even a whisper now. Their faces were so close, they were breathing the same air, their foreheads nearly pressed up against each other. "And you were the hero."

Peter laughed breathlessly, their noses brushed against each other. "_Your_ hero, right?"

She smiled, feeling his warm breath on her lips. "Totally my hero."

Claire felt her eyes slide shut as they closed the space between them, their lips meeting quickly. Peter slid his hand up her back to cradle the back of her head, pressing her head closer to his. She stepped forward, nudging his knees apart so she could stand between them as she clutched his hair.

Peter parted her lips slowly, rubbing his tongue against hers. He wrapped his other arm all the way around her waist, drawing her closer so her stomach was pressed up against his chest. Claire whimpered when he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, drew his mouth away to press kisses down her jaw to her neck, sucked gently. She didn't mind the scratch of his stubble as he dragged his face back up to hers, their mouths fusing together greedily as their breathing grew heavier.

Suddenly the height difference grew to be too much for Peter, he stood to his full height. His hands rubbed her back, over her thin white camisole, then dipping under to feel her hot skin.

Claire dragged her nails down the smooth skin of Peter's back, bringing them around too caress his hard abs. She felt the muscles twitch beneath her touch as she brought her hands back up his chest to clutch his shoulders.

Peter traced his fingers down her spine, moving around the curve of her ass, to clutch the backs of her thighs. He pressed gently and Claire knew what he wanted. She hopped up, wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling his hands support her thighs. She gasped out as Peter sucked a little less-than-gently on her neck. He backed her up so her back was to the wall, the contrast of the cool tile behind her and Peter's hot chest pressing against her front causing her to cry out.

"Peter," she whispered breathlessly, one hand tangled in his hair, the other clutching his strong bicep.

"Claire," he responded in kind. Suddenly he froze, pulled his face from the crook of her neck. She couldn't make out the look in his eyes, but when he slowly lowered her to the ground, she knew that it wasn't good.

He carefully removed his hands from her, stepped backwards with his hands raised up as if they were tainted. His mouth hung open and he seemed to be having trouble closing it. His eyes looked her up and down, then gazed at his own body.

"Peter?" she asked timidly, taking one step forward. When he took another step back, she stopped, wrapping her arms around herself. She'd never felt so self-conscious before as he openly stared at her; she still couldn't figure out the look in his eyes. Was it disgust? Frustration? Loathing?

No, she finally realized. It was fear.

"Claire," he managed to choke out. She cringed at the way he said her name, like he could barely say it, like he was so disgusted with what they'd just done. He shook his head. "I… I can't. We… you're…"

"Don't say it," she whispered hoarsely. She could feel her throat tightening up; hot, angry tears sliding down her cheeks as she looked up at him.

His face changed to one of pity. "Please don't cry," he said quietly. "I just… I can't do this. I'm sorry, Claire."

She sniffed, not bothering to wipe the tears away from her face. Pride be damned, "Peter, I lo—"

"Don't, Claire. Don't make this any harder than it already is." Peter frowned, stepping forward and reaching out to wipe her tears away. It did little good, because within seconds they were replaced by new ones. Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd cried this hard. Not even the day when she had to say a final goodbye to her family had hurt her this badly.

"I'm… I'm sorry," he whispered before teleporting out of the bathroom, not even bothering to grab his shirt.

Claire could feel herself breaking. After everything that had happened, she had grown to depend on Peter always being there for her. But now he had pushed her away, rejected her, broken her beyond repair.

She may have been the Indestructible Girl, but burning alive or having her hand cut off was nothing compared to this. She was only an empty shell, there was nothing left inside her. Just a cold hollowness that took over her mind, body, and soul.

Even his leaving her hadn't hurt her, because there was nothing left to break.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Well, that was much angstier than expected. I think it's all the emo music I've been listening to lately. But don't worry, things will clear up in the future! Feedback would be appreciated.

Raise your hand if you're excited for tomorrow night's episode!! ((Waves hand so frantically she hits herself in the face))


	7. Repercussions

**Author's Note: **As I'm sure most of you know, Tuesday was Election Day. I couldn't believe how many kids at my school were flipping out because of it. To be honest, I'm only 17; I don't get to vote, so I don't really make a big deal about it. I have enough stress in my life right now, thank you very much. I'm just glad all those ridiculous campaign ads are finally going to be done. And you know what I really hate? When people talk about supporting a candidate—Obama or McCain, either one—but when asked what about said candidate's platform they like, they have no idea. I mean, please. If you're going to support someone, at least know what you're supporting and why.

Okay, there's my spiel. I don't have a blog or anything, so this is where I vent. I apologize if that annoyed you and now you just want to skip down to the beginning of the chapter.

Anyway, I was frustrated that there was no Heroes episode Monday night and then I got even more upset when I drove up to school yesterday and remembered that my school is a polling place so my usual parking spot had been reserved for voters. Damn voters. Taking my parking spot and waving their little red "I Voted" stickers in my face.

Wow, I'm going off on a lot of tangents today. This election has really thrown me off kilter. What is a kilter anyway? Anyone know? I'll dedicate the next chapter to whoever can tell me!

But back to my original point: I was upset and stressed and peeved and annoyed and any other synonym for frustrated and to make myself feel better, I decided to dive back into the Paire world. So, without further ado (and I give you a lot of credit if you actually managed to read this whole thing), I give you the next chapter…

* * *

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter Seven: Repercussions"**

November in New York was always cold, always had been. The leaves fell to the ground, everything was frosted over, there was an icy chill to the air, nighttime seemed darker and came earlier, the sky was almost always a gloomy, hazy gray.

Peter told himself this as he sat outside the abandoned subway station, tugging his dark coat around his body tighter, but for some reason he couldn't shake the chill inside him. He felt hollowed out, empty, void. Not like a piece of him was missing, but like the feeling when you put your hand up to a warm fire. Your hand felt cold in the beginning, but once it's pulled away from the blazing heat that stuns your senses, your hand feels even worse than before.

A small voice in the back of his mind wondered if this was because of how things went down with Claire in the bathroom. In that moment—no matter how brief—his heart, his body, his very soul had been filled with such an inferno of passion. In all his thirty-one years he couldn't think of a time when he had felt a stronger pull to another person, like they were part of a puzzle made with only two pieces—other pieces might fight close enough, just about right, but never would they be as truly fulfilled as when they were with that one missing piece.

He shook his head vigorously, trying to ignore the way a lock of his hair falling into his face reminded him of a certain young woman who'd just bared her soul to him and he just struck her down. But what else could he do? He had to save her from this, from what he was. His wipe out of New York City—no matter how unintentional it had been—had condemned him to a dark, lonely path and he sure as hell wasn't going to drag her down with him.

It was times like this that Peter almost wished he smoked or had some other kind of bad habit that could pass the time for him. He'd come out here to get some fresh air and clear his head, but if he was being truly honest with himself—which he generally tried to steer clear of around this topic—he was avoiding Claire. He knew she would be going to bed soon and he hoped she would be better in the morning. She'd realize what a bad decision they'd almost made, and everything would go back to normal. He would still protect her, care for her, watching her in pained silence, and she would cheer him up, laugh for him, give him those sad smiles of hers where he could see the desire in her eyes and the suffering that came with it.

He groaned, leaning forward so his face was cradled in his calloused hands. Maybe rescuing Claire was a bad idea—no, it definitely wasn't. But staying was. He should've gone back to Vegas when he had the chance, gone back to Niki and the club and that life and never let her cross his mind again. At least then he wouldn't have to think about her all the time, see her sparkling eyes, smell her sweet natural fragrance that was simply _Claire_, listen to her infectious laugh or her angelic sound of voice.

The front door to the station opened and Peter didn't have to turn around to know who was there. He could tell by the sound of a leg dragging slowly across the concrete and the quiet grunts of frustration.

He kept looking forward as Melody sat down on the ground next to him, leaning back against the brick wall of the building like he was doing. She had to brace herself as she lowered her injured leg down, but once she was situated she visibly relaxed. When she was finally settled she turned over to the brooding empath.

"Any reason why I found Claire sitting huddled in the bathroom an hour ago?" she asked quietly. Her face remained impassive, but he could hear the bite in her tone.

Peter knew what Melody wanted him to say, but he wasn't ready to say those words, didn't know if he ever would be. He was already dipping his toe in the water, to say those words would be like diving right in. He shrugged and leaned his head back against the cool brick.

She arched an eyebrow. "It wouldn't have anything to do with why you're hiding out here, now would it?"

"I'm not _hiding_," he snapped suddenly, turning to face her. The way she raised her eyebrows and smirked told him she knew they both knew he was lying. He rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to cross his arms like a child. "I just…needed to get away. To think things through."

Melody nodded in understanding, "That's fine Peter, perfectly reasonable. But you should remind yourself that Claire won't wait forever. She's already waited five years…"

"And what would you know? You don't know anything about either of us."

"I know enough. And I'm not lying when I say that I know what it's like to be in love with the one person you can't be with. It sucks and it hurts and you want to tear your hair out," she leaned in towards him, "But you have to remember that when it all comes down to it, all that matters is the two of you, and how you feel about each other."

Peter shook his head, closed his eyes. "It's not that simple. Things are more complicated than you can imagine and…why am I even talking to you about this? I hardly know you."

Melody didn't seem offended at all. She shrugged, picking at the bandage wrapped around her thigh. "I'm someone to talk to. A voice of reason, so to speak."

He snorted, "And only slightly biased."

That brought a smirk on her face. "Just a little," she whispered back conspiratorially.

They sat in silence for a while before he noticed Melody peeking up at him through his peripheral vision. But he wasn't going to be the one to start this conversation—he didn't even want to have it in the first place. If this girl thought she was going to get some answers out of him, she would at least have to be the one to get the ball rolling.

Apparently Melody could take a hint. "So," she began slowly, linking her fingers together as she stretched her arms forward. "You wanna talk about it?"

He shrugged, "What's there to talk about? We can't be together. Ever. End of story."

"Do you honestly want that?"

"It's not about what I _want_, it's just the way things have to be."

She looked down at her lap, her voice softer now, "Hiro went back in time today. To the past you, to tell you to save the cheerleader. You remember it, right?"

He could still hear Hiro's words echoing in his ears to this day, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Melody ignored his lack of response and continued on.

"Claire asked him not to. He almost listened to her."

Now _that_ shocked Peter. He turned towards the smaller female, scooting back a bit so they were at a more comfortable distance in this angle. "She asked him not to? Like at all?"

Melody shook her head, "I couldn't get a definite answer out of her, but I'm pretty sure she thought it would be easier if she never knew you. She hasn't been saying much lately; she just sits in the bathroom, curled up in the corner."

He frowned and clenched his jaw, hoping Melody wouldn't notice how much this had affected him. Just because this girl kept _saying_ she knew how he felt about Claire didn't mean he had to assure her of anything. Because he himself wasn't even sure of that answer.

"Maybe it _would_ be easier for the both of us if we never knew the other one existed."

"You can't actually believe that," Melody insisted. "You care about her as a friend at least, right?"

"She's more than just my friend, she's my best friend. She's all I have."

"Then you need to let her know that, Peter."

"I…I can't. I can't explain this to her and if I tried it would just complicate things even more. I'd end up hurting her again."

"How about you try speaking from your heart?" she suggested, picking at a loose thread on the checkered scarf she wore draped around her neck. "Tell her the truth."

He shook his head again, "It's not that simple."

"Would you stop saying that? It _is_ that simple; you just have to let it be." She squinted her eyes at him. "You're not much of an optimist, are you?"

"I'm a _realist_," he corrected.

"But you used to be one, right? Hiro always said you were the dreamer, the wishful hospice nurse who wanted to make a difference, who always believed in good and a brighter tomorrow."

He let out a humorless laugh. "You sound like a Hallmark card or something. And anyway, I'm not that same person anymore. My head isn't always stuck in the clouds, I don't live in some stupid fantasy world—I know what is going on in this world and I deal with it."

Melody smiled dejectedly, "I can see that I'm not going to succeed here. I don't want to bother you anymore, but if you ever want to talk, I'm a good listener." She started to stand up, but then seemed to decide that that was too much work. She closed her eyes and in her place was a small robin, who fluttered close to Peter's face for a few seconds before dashing back into the safety of the station.

While talking _had_ taken away some of the tension in his shoulders, Melody had also brought to light new considerations that Peter had never even thought of before. Suddenly he didn't have to worry about struggling with his own feelings and conscious, but the guilt of how Claire was dealing with this. Certainly his rejection hadn't helped at all, nor the way he just disappeared. He sighed, realizing that that probably hadn't been the best way to handle the situation.

But now he figured what Claire needed most was space. Time to figure things out for herself. When she was ready to talk, she would come to him.

Peter stood up, stretching his tired muscles and brushing off his pants. What _he_ needed was a distraction, something he could focus on that would help him move past all of this. The first thing that came to mind was the thing he probably should've been focusing on for five years now.

The first step was to find Hiro. Not much of a difficult task, he was currently sharpening his sword while speaking to Ando. It had been unanimously decided that Ando had been in their time for too long, he had seen too much of the future for it to be safe for him to go back. He didn't seem to mind, and Hiro had notably brightened since the decision of his best friend's permanent stay. Peter didn't know any Japanese aside from about ten basic words, but he could tell that they were discussing something important. Now this he could deal with.

The two stopped talking when he approached them. Hiro's eyes looked weary—clearly today had been a hard one on him.

"Can we talk?" Peter asked quietly, squatting down next to them. Hiro glanced over at Ando briefly before nodding. He set his sword down behind him on the cot, leaning forward a bit more to show Peter he was listening.

Peter glanced back behind him and chewed the side of his lip. "Look, obviously we know that hiding out here isn't going to work forever. It's been successful so far, yes, but what happens when the government gets word about where we are? There's about a hundred people with abilities in one containable area—not to mention you, me, and Claire are the ones they want most. And here we are, all together, sitting ducks."

Hiro arched an eyebrow, "What's your point?"

"I think it's time we took action. I'm sick of defense, it's time for some offense."

Hiro breathed in deeply, rubbing his chin as he contemplated Peter's suggestion. Ando seemed to be in agreement with Peter. He looked over expectantly at his friend, awaiting his answer.

"You have a point. What do you think we should do?"

Peter narrowed his eyes, "We go right for the powerhouse, take them down with one punch, a knockout."

"You mean…" Hiro trailed off, glancing over at Ando.

He nodded. "We go after Nathan. He's the one controlling all of this. We get rid of him, they won't know what to do next. He's the mastermind behind this whole plan. We take out Nathan, we get our freedom."

"Peter," Ando gaped, "can you really…go after your brother like that?"

"I don't really have a choice."

"But…he's your brother. You're family."

"Yeah and look what he did to his own daughter. He obviously doesn't care about family ties anymore, he's not stopping until he gets what he wants."

"No one knows him like you do, Peter," Hiro said as he leaned forward on his knees. "What do you think he's up to?"

Peter shook his head, leaning back on his heels. "That's just it, usually every move he makes screams Nathan, but I don't get what he's been doing. None of it makes sense."

"You suspect foul play?"

"These days Hiro, I don't know what to think…"

"I don't think it's a good idea to bring everyone into this, or necessary, for that matter," Hiro said. "A small group, of the most capable people. The biggest assets. People who'll know what they're getting into and will be able to handle the consequences."

Peter nodded in agreement. "There are a few people I can think of off the top of my head, but you know these people better than anyone, Hiro. They look to you."

Hiro shook his head solemnly, "_You_ are the leader, Peter. You are the most powerful, the planner, you always know what to do. I can talk to them, but you're going to have to take the reins."

"Alright, but I'll need your help. Ando, while we're gone, you think you can try to keep the others calm?"

Ando nodded, glad to have a part in this mission. "There will be no trouble under my watch, Peter."

Hiro stood up and the other two followed. His dark eyes scanned the groups of people behind them, squinting slightly. "Who are you thinking so far?"

Peter turned around to watch the people as well, searching the various faces. "Damien, for sure. And Melody, if she's up to it. You, me…"

"There's one more I can think of," Hiro shifted a bit, looking over at Peter blatantly.

He looked back at Hiro in confusion, his eyes widening in comprehension. "Absolutely not. What purpose would she serve?"

"It's always handy to have someone who is indestructible on your team," he replied monotonously. "Not to mention she won't be afraid. And maybe she can talk to Nathan."

Peter ardently shook his head. "She'll be too emotionally attached."

Ando snorted, peeking over Hiro's shoulder. "Talk about…how you say, the pot calling the kettle black."

He pursed his lips, glancing to the side. Clenching his jaw, he turned back to them. "Fine. But I'm not happy about it."

"Understood. It's too late to get anything started, but we will begin battle plans first thing tomorrow morning," Hiro suggested as he reached down to grab his sword.

Peter nodded once and tucked his hands into his pockets. "Alright. Let me know if you think of anyone else…"

He turned around and jumped at the small figure in front of him. Deep green eyes crackled with righteous fury as they glared up at him. Her arms were crossed and she stood with one hip cocked to the side, telltale points that she was not happy.

"Claire," he breathed, unsure of what to say to her.

But she wasn't going to give him time to think. She took another step forward; despite their major height difference, the young regenerate could be quite intimidating when she wanted to be.

"Peter." She said his name as if it disgusted her, her tone filled with malice and hatred and, behind all those protective layers, a hint of pain. "We need to talk."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh, cliffhangers do amuse me. Sorry for taking so long to update. I've been busy wrapping up the end of first term at school and then gave my room a little makeover. I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner. Please review!


	8. Turning Points

**Author's Note: **I just wanted to thank everyone who has taken the time to review my story. I always like hearing what my readers think of my work. So, thanks for that everyone :)

Special thanks to HeWhoWalksTheEarth aka Matthew for help with the definition of kilter. As promised, this chapter is dedicated to you!

**Warning: **This chapter contains adult incestuous situations. Don't read it if you don't like it, but at least read the beginning of the chapter—it's important.

* * *

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter Eight: Turning Points"**

Claire hugged her knees, rested her chin on them and stared down at the white tile in front of her. She let out a heavy sigh and blinked slowly, ignoring the ache she was beginning to feel in her lower back and ass from sitting in one position for so long.

She'd been in there for a good half hour since Peter had left, but his words were still ringing fresh in her mind.

_"I…I can't. We…you're…"_

He was disgusted, she knew it. With what they'd done, with her. She was a freak, obsessed with her much older uncle. She couldn't believe she'd actually thought he'd felt the same way about her.

_"I just…I can't do this. I'm sorry, Claire."_

Peter had always been a do-gooder, a rule follower. Thinking about it now, Claire realized how much it made sense that he would be afraid of something so taboo. She should've expected this reaction from him—but, then again, she had never expected them to take this little dance of theirs so far in the first place. She never for the life of her would have thought that Peter might even remotely return her feelings. It was all just harmless flirting, wasn't it?

_"Don't, Claire. Don't make this any harder than it already is."_

He cared for her, that much she knew. The question was, in what way? She knew there was a bond between them, a connection that no other could compete with. She'd known that since the first night they met some five years ago. Their relation was more than just the uncle-niece kind, they were friends—best friends even. But was there any chance for more?

Claire had come far past denying the fact that she'd had a crush on Peter since the moment she first laid eyes on him. He was handsome, gorgeous even, with his long floppy hair and those dark hazel eyes that seemed to see right through to her soul. She had always convinced herself that it was just a silly schoolgirl crush, even when she found out just who he was to her. Even five years later, she had looked over their blatant flirting and all those touches as just the natural reaction to the opposite gender.

The moment their lips came together, however, Claire was certain that there was more to this than just physical attraction. They were destined to be together, their bodies made specifically for the other one, fate had brought them to each other for a reason—both when she was sixteen and now five years later, even after so much had passed.

She'd loved Andy, yes, but that was nothing like the feelings she had for Peter. Andy gave her little butterflies in her stomach, made her forget who she was and what was going on in the outside world. Peter, on the other hand, ignited a fire inside her that burned with such a white-hot intensity it was too much and yet not enough all at the same time. He didn't make her forget anything, he made her feel safe with who and what she was. No one could protect Claire like Peter could. He _was_ her hero, after all.

Not only that, but Peter inspired her. His strength, his determination, his courage made her want to be a better person. He made her want to use her ability for good, instead of hiding it like she had with Andy. He made her want to make a difference in the world, save lives, protect the innocent, help those who needed it most. He was so selfless and it was one of the millions of little things that she loved about him.

She paused, clenching her jaw and digging her nails into the sides of her calves through her jeans. She'd never allowed herself to think that thought, but now that it was out there, she knew there was no way she could ever have doubted it.

Claire Bennet was absolutely, irrevocably, totally and completely, head-over-heels in love with Peter Petrelli.

She smiled slightly, tucking her face into her legs as she allowed her mind to wrap around that notion. "I love him," she whispered quietly to no one. It felt so good to say, she wanted to shout it to the heavens.

A frown grew on her face as she realized that there wasn't much she could do about it now. Not with Peter so against the two of them. But she knew deep within her soul that they were made for each other, and he probably knew it too, he was just too afraid to admit it.

This time she glared into the darkness her curled body made. She admired Peter for his selflessness, but sometimes she felt he was a little _too_ selfless. She knew he wouldn't do anything about them without a fight. Why did he always have to be such a rule follower? What had once inspired her now was her greatest hindrance.

Claire groaned and tipped her head back into the corner of the tiling. She tugged on the ends of her newly blonde hair. Why was her life so frustrating? She'd finally found her soul mate and he turned out to be her uncle. If there was an award for the most twisted story of star-crossed lovers, she was sure theirs would leave the rest in the dust.

The bathroom door creaked as it was opened. "Claire? You okay?"

She glanced up to see Melody peeking her head in the door. There was a small smile on her face, but it looked wrong. Claire narrowed her eyes as she realized why; it was careful, she was afraid Claire would break.

"I'm fine," she snapped as she glowered down at her hands, picking at the dark chipped polish on her nails. Melody came and sat down next to her; they sat in silence for a few minutes.

Finally Melody turned to her, "I…I know we don't know each other very well, but I just want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

Claire felt her face and tense back relax as her words reminded her that she was only trying to help. But Melody's gesture, no matter how appreciated, was worthless, unless she had the ability to convince Peter to change his mind. Claire sighed, if only she had the power to show someone how stupid they were being. Now _that_ was a power worth having.

She turned to the shape shifter, smiling earnestly. "Thanks, but I really just need to be alone right now. Think things out, you know?"

"Oh sure, definitely," Melody nodded enthusiastically. She nudged Claire's shoulder with her own before slowly easing back up onto her feet. "Well, you know where to find me."

The large wooden door shut with a resounding echo that bounced off the tiled walls of the bathroom. Claire briefly wondered how long she'd been in there. Which made her wonder where Peter was. Was he thinking about her? Wondering how she was doing? Regretting the way he'd handled things? She kept half expecting him to sweep in any minute, pull her into his arms, admit he was wrong, and kiss her like his life depended on it.

Or maybe, he was waiting for _her_ to make the first move. That would be such a Peter thing to do. He'd give her space until she was ready to talk about it. She rolled her eyes; here she was, wasting her time wallowing in her own self-pity when she could be making up with the man of her dreams. She couldn't believe how dense she could be sometimes. She stood up quickly, reaching out for the wall to steady herself.

Claire reached for the door handle, but ran back to the mirrors at the last minute. She may love the guy, but she should at least look decent, too. She ran her fingers hurriedly through her hair, combing out any snarls or stray hairs. Finally satisfied with her appearance, Claire headed out to the subway cars. She figured that would be his most likely location.

After glancing around a bit, she finally spotted him, walking up to Hiro and Ando. That surprised her. Was he talking to them about her? Asking for advice perhaps? …Why would he go to those two? As far as she knew, neither of them had much relationship experience.

Walking closer, she could faintly hear their conversation. Her eye narrowed as she realized they weren't talking about her, or relationships at all! They were discussing plans of attack on the government. She scoffed, what a typical boy. Here she was, obsessing over every word he'd ever said to her while he was off playing war with his friends.

_Fine,_ she told herself, _if he doesn't want to listen, then I'll just have to make him._

"Alright," Peter called out to Hiro and Ando as they parted, "let me know if you think of anyone else…"

Claire stepped up behind him, crossing her arms and cocking her hip. She narrowed her eyes so he'd know what was up when he saw her. Peter turned around and jumped, his surprise giving her more satisfaction than it should have.

"Claire," he breathed out nervously.

She took another step towards him, cursing her disadvantage in height to him. It was hard to be intimidating when you had to look up in order to look the person in the eye. "Peter," she said slowly, making sure to low her voice to a level that practically dripped with malice. "We need to talk."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and nodded once. Peter grabbed her upper arm and she knew what he was going to do before he'd even done it. He closed his eyes and she did the same. The next thing she knew, they were standing outside in the empty street.

Snow was lightly beginning to drift down upon them, but Claire didn't mind. As long as she had Peter alone and listening to her, she was fine. Peter seemed to be unsure of what to say, so she decided to speak first.

"I waited for you."

She tried not to cringe—that wasn't what she'd wanted to say, but it just came out. She hated how pitiful it sounded.

"I'm…I'm sorry," he whispered in a raspy voice, keeping his eyes downcast.

"No you're not," she snapped. "You were hiding from me. You were afraid to face your actions. You're a coward, Peter. A big, whiny coward! Who always has to be Mr. Perfect, has to fix everything, has to follow every rule. Well I'm sick of it!"

"And what do you expect me to do?" Peter shouted, no longer afraid to meet her gaze or step towards her.

"I don't know," she shot back. "But _something_ at least. Stop hiding and _do something_, Peter."

He let out a sound that sounded strangely like a growl, stepping away from her and tugging at his hair. "There's nothing I _can_ do, Claire. This…whatever that's going on shouldn't. It can't."

She crossed her arms. "Says who?"

"Everyone! The world, nature, society. That's just the way it is." By now the snowflakes had changed from light and fluffy to large, wet clumps of white. The snow soaked their hair and clothing, but neither one seemed to pay attention to it. They each were breathing heavily, small clouds forming from their hot breath.

"That's just ridiculous, Peter. You're just hiding behind all of that," she snapped.

"I don't have a choice." He turned back to her, his eyes darkening in anger. "What do you want me to say, Claire? That I love you? Do you expect some kind of grand marriage proposal and a happily ever after? Because life doesn't work that way. Not for us."

"No," she said defensively, clenching her jaw and tilting her head up in an act of defiance. "I just want you to tell me the truth, Peter."

Peter scoffed, looking to his left. "The truth, Claire?" His eyes narrowed and a deep frown was etched on his weary face. "The truth is, I hate everything about you."

A hot tear slid down her cheek as she glared up at him with her jaw dropped, hating how he refused to even look at her. The way her throat closed up at his answer could only let her make an angry, choked sound as she turned on her heel and started down the empty street. She pinched her lips shut so he couldn't hear the sobs struggling to break free as more tears slid down her face.

She was only a few feet away before he continued.

"I can't stand it," he said darkly. She froze where she stood, not turning around. His faint voice echoed down the street to her. "I hate the way your hair shines in the sunlight. I hate the way your eyes always gleam like you have a secret. I hate the when your eyebrow quirks up when you're being sarcastic."

She could hear him take a step forward, but Claire found herself unable to move.

"I hate those looks you give me, like it's all you can do not to hold on to me. I hate the way you know all of my likes and dislikes. I hate the way I always know what you're thinking, even without my telekinesis. I hate how perfect you are—I can't believe that one person can be so intelligent and caring and brave and strong and beautiful…_so _beautiful."

Claire finally turned around, not bothering to wipe the tears that were still falling down her face. Peter was now only a few feet away from her. Neither of them quite ready to bridge the gap between them.

He looked up at her, those hazel eyes of his holding hers in an intense lock. "I hate the fact that I can still recognize your scent after all this time. I hate that I'm always finding myself thinking of you, even when you're not around. I hate the way I feel when you smile at me, or when you laugh, or even when I catch a glimpse of you. I hate how smooth your skin is and how soft your hair is and how bright your eyes are. I hate how the sound of your laugh always brings a smile to my face. I hate how much I want to wrap my arms around you whenever you're near.

"I _hate_ that Nathan is my brother and your father. I hate that I'll always want the one thing I can never have. I hate the way you make me want to be a better man, and the way you never let me give up. I hate that even after five years of being apart, one minute in your presence filled me with a warmth that I hadn't felt since I last saw you."

By now there were only mere inches between them; they were both drenched from the wet snow, Claire's eyes still pouring out tears, but they were no longer pain-filled. They breathed heavily, neither one minding the cold wind blowing at them or the way bits of snow kept landing on their eyelashes. Their cheeks were a rosy red, as were the tips of their noses. Neither of them were dressed very warmly, but neither of them even noticed.

Peter let out a frustrated laugh and ran his hand through his long hair, his expression softening as his voice lowered to a whisper. "God, Claire. You have no idea, you drive me crazy. I hate that we can never cross _that_ line."

"Peter…" she choked out, shaking her head desperately.

His eyes darkened as he lowered his head towards hers, their foreheads brushing against each other, small puffs of heated breath coming out between them. "And I hate that I don't care anymore."

Before she could say anything, his mouth crashed into hers and he pulled her into his arms. Claire was distantly aware of her numb hands gripping his sweater as she pulled him tighter to her, his mouth moving over hers over and over again.

Peter pulled away, his eyes searching hers. He rubbed his hands over her damp hair and kissed her forehead. His eyes closed and he panted. His voice was barely a whisper, "I love you, Claire. I have since the first moment I saw you."

"Peter," Claire sobbed, tucking her face into his chest. She wiped her face off on the soft fabric of his sweater, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. "I love you more than life itself."

His cold hand cupped her cheek and she didn't mind the chill as she leaned into it. He smiled softly at her, his other arm wrapping tightly around her waist. Claire lifted one hand to the back of his neck, pulling his head down to meet hers.

She whimpered slightly as his tongue slipped into her mouth, stroking her own. She tightened her grip on his hair and pressed further into him. Peter slowly backed them up so her back met the brick wall of the station. He rubbed her back as his mouth left hers to kiss down her neck and suck at her collar bone.

He hissed when her cold hands slipped under his sweater, fingering his abdominal muscles lightly. "You're freezing," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

She giggled, "So are you. We're both soaked."

Peter wrapped his arms around her shoulders, tucking her head under his chin. Suddenly they were in an apartment; it was dark, and obviously unoccupied for five years, but at least it blocked them from the cold.

They looked at each other silently for a moment before rushing back towards the other. Claire clutched the lapels of Peter's jacket, having to use force to get the damp fabric off of his shoulders. She laughed into his mouth as his arms got stuck in the water-logged sleeves. Peter groaned in annoyance, finally choosing to phase his arms out of them to solve the problem.

Claire yelped slightly when his cold hands slid under the back of her shirt, pressing against the heat of her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rising up onto her toes so he wouldn't have to bend as much. She broke from his mouth, pressing heated, openmouthed kisses down his neck and coming back up. Their teeth clashed together through their intensity, but neither of them really seemed to notice.

They were wearing far too much clothing, she decided, reaching down between them to grab the bottom of his sweater. Just as her small hands began to drag the dark sweater upwards, it jerked towards her. Claire stared at it in surprise, tilting her head a bit as she looked back at Peter. He smirked wickedly and she realized that he had chosen to phase out of that as well instead of having to deal with its pesky removal.

She raised her eyebrows, stepping back and raising her arms with mock innocence. Peter's eyes darkened noticeably as he slowly dragged her drenched shirt upwards. It got caught on her head and hands and she couldn't help but laugh as he tugged in frustration. When she warned him about not pulling her head right off, he calmed and gently eased it over her damp tresses.

When Claire was finally free, she pulled him back to her, moaning softly at the feel of their heated skin finally meeting. With absolutely no space left between their bodies, she could feel him pressing up against the space between her hip and her belly. She rubbed against his arousal and smiled into his neck when he groaned in her ear.

Peter pulled one of his hands away from stroking her back to reach between them, unclasping her jeans and pulling the zipper down. He gently tugged them down, allowing her to cling to his shoulders as he knelt down to help her out of her shoes and socks, easing her feet out of the cuffs of her drenched jeans.

When he stood back up, he grabbed onto the back of one of her knees, bringing it to rise up with him. He hitched it onto his hip, grinding his arousal into the moist heat between her thighs. Claire had to bite down onto his shoulder to keep from groaning too loudly from the contact. She pressed down onto him and he panted into her ear as they gently rocked together.

Eventually, she needed more. She hoped strategically placing her hands on his shoulders was warning enough as she jumped up to bring the other leg around his hips, linking her ankles together. Peter slid his hands down her back to clutch at her rear, squeezing the flesh gently as he began to walk towards where Claire assumed the bedroom was.

She whispered his name when he laid her in the center of the bed, removing his own jeans and footwear before joining her underneath the faded sheets. He stretched out beside her, splaying one hand over the taught muscles of her stomach as the other one reached behind her to unclasp her bra.

Claire sucked his lower lip between her teeth as he pulled her bra away from her. She turned her head to the side to gasp out when his warm hands massaged her breasts. He kissed a trail down her neck, past her collar bone, down to her chest. A high keening noise rose out of her throat as he took one perked nipple to his mouth, laving it with his tongue over and over again.

She moaned and arched her back, pressing herself closer to him as he switched his attentions to her other breast. Clutching the back of his hair, she dragged his head back up to meet hers, their mouths fusing together with such an intensity it left Claire breathless.

One of Peter's hands slid down the said of her waist, trailing over her hip, to rest on the band of her panties. He ran a finger along it, feeling her stomach muscles shuddering beneath his touch. When she lifted her hips encouragingly, he hooked his fingers around the sides and slowly slid them down her legs, tossing the small bit of fabric to the floor, already forgotten.

"God…" Claire moaned when Peter slid two fingers into her. She arched into his touch, rocking her hips to meet his hand's gentle rhythm. He pulled back to watch as she bit down on her lip, closing her eyes and leaning back into the pillow. His rhythm increased and she could feel the heated coil beginning to tighten at the pit of her belly.

Peter bent down to clasp his mouth over one of her nipples, scraping his teeth gently. The extra stimulus was all she needed to send her over the edge. Claire gasped and bucked her hips wildly as she came, a flash of white blinding her for a moment and then she slowly came back, glancing up at Peter through hooded eyes as he smiled down at her.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, his full lips brushing over just barely. Claire couldn't decide if she wanted to weep from how gentle he was being with her or scream from the frustration of his treating her like she could break. She loved his tenderness with her, always had, but she was tired of that. He'd said he loved her, now it was time to prove it.

Claire reached down between them, sliding one hand past the band of his boxers and finding his heated length, hard and ready to please. She curled her fingers around him and he panted, whispered her name, his hands clutched her upper arms. Peter thrust into her hand, matching her rhythm as he closed his eyes and leaned his head down against her own.

She could feel him throbbing within her hand and decided now was the time to remove his boxers. Claire quickly pulled them down his toned legs, running her hands over the coarse hair that covered them as he shifted to settle in between her legs.

The tip of him brushed against her opening and Claire shuddered as jolts of pleasure shot down her spine to the pit of her stomach. She pulled Peter's head down so their mouths could meet again, stroking his tongue with her own in his heated mouth. She lifted her hips to meet his and Peter pulled away slightly.

He brushed her bangs out of her face, his dark eyes searching hers. "Are you sure?"

She pushed her head up to kiss him, hoping he could feel every passionate emotion she was pouring into the kiss, knowing that words could never begin to describe how she felt about him. When they broke apart, she smiled up at him, stroking the back of his neck. That seemed to be enough of an answer for Peter; he smiled at her boyishly, positioning himself at her entrance before slowly sliding into her warm heat.

Claire felt her eyes roll to the back of her head as she pressed back into the pillow more deeply. She hadn't been a virgin in years, but she had never felt as complete as when Peter was inside her. He stretched and filled her to the point where she could just weep in ecstasy. The way his eyes were pinched shut and his mouth had dropped open told her he felt exactly the same way.

"Oh, Peter," she whispered, tilting her hips upward so he could press into her even more. He gently pulled back then pushed back in slowly. The way he stroked her most sensitive inner walls practically killed her. Claire raked her nails down his back, knowing if she left marks, he could take it. They both could.

Which reminded her, he was treating her like glass again.

She yanked his head down to hers, thrusting her tongue into his mouth as she wrapped her legs around his waist simultaneously. Peter groaned and seemed to get what she was silently telling him. He leaned on his elbows and began to thrust into her, switching between deep, long strokes and short, hard ones. Claire rocked her hips up to meet him with every thrust, loving the way he trailed one hand down to her waist, then back up to cup her breast.

Peter licked his way down her neck, stopping at the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder and bit down at the same time he thrust into her as deeply as he could. By then, Claire could hardly contain her high-pitched keening and whimpers. She kissed every inch of bare skin she could reach, her hands never stopping as they rubbed his smooth back. She loved the way his sinewy muscles moved as he rocked into her.

His hand reached down between them to rub her clit, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers to the same rhythm as his thrusts. Claire panted heavily, reaching up to rub her damp forehead. Peter chuckled breathlessly, kissing her lips as his pace began to increase.

Claire was close, she could feel it deep within her. The heated coil within her was tightening quickly, any minute and it would all be over. She cried out when he hit a spot inside her, one that had her seeing stars and her head spinning.

Peter paused for a moment, searching her eyes to make sure she was okay. Claire smiled sheepishly, tucking his dark hair behind one ear. "Do that again," she whispered. She clenched her inner muscles around him so Peter's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his mouth opened in a shuddering gasp.

He panted and lowered his head briefly to recover. "Fuck, Claire," he breathed out before continuing to thrust into her. He tilted her hips upward so he could hit that spot in her over and over again. Claire tossed her head back and forth, unable to keep her eyes open anymore as she whimpered.

Peter leaned down and latched onto one of her tight nipples as he thrust into her and pressed down on her clit at the same time. It was too much for her and Claire screamed his name as she felt the coil undo and filled her with that white-hot heat. Her vision blurred as she tilted her head back and her jaw dropped. She clutched his biceps, finally releasing the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.

When she finally drifted down to earth, Peter's thrusts were quickening rapidly. He'd settled for simply letting his head drop as his eyes shut tightly, his cock pulsing inside her. Claire leaned up, running her nails along his scalp and sucking on his earlobe. Her muscles clenching tightly around him was his undoing as he thrust deeply into her, gave a loud grunt and gasped out her name.

Claire felt his hot release inside her as he panted and shuddered, pulling her still-shaking form to his. Their hands groped around the other's body for something to cling to. Finally Peter calmed down and let himself fall onto Claire's small body, their skin cooling as their heart rates slowed.

He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in deeply. Claire sighed, rubbing her hands up his back as she felt her eyes growing heavy. She smiled softly, pressing a light kiss to the side of his head as they lay there in contented silence.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, I forgot how hard those are to write. Not like sex scenes are difficult to write, but it takes forever for me to actually be satisfied with it, you know? Anyway, I hope this was up to par. Comment please! It keeps my muse going lol

Oh, question—if I got a Livejournal, would those of you who have one friend me? Just a thought…


	9. Moving Forward

**A/N: **So a few people mentioned that Peter's confession reminded them of the movie _10 Things I Hate About You_. That was unintentional, but now that I think about it, I can see why you'd think that I guess. Good movie, if you haven't seen it, I definitely recommend it (RIP Heath).

Anyway, thank you for all the great reviews! I love hearing from you guys. Please keep it up!!

**Note: **I've taken a few liberties regarding Claire's regeneration abilities. I have no idea of the truth behind these ideas; they are merely my interpretation of the way it works for her. So please do not hold me responsible for any falsehood behind my explanations.

* * *

**H E R O E S  
**_**The Name of the Game**_

**"Chapter Nine: Moving Forward" **

Claire smiled softly as she played with Peter's hand, her head resting on his bare chest as he tucked an arm around her. She ran her fingers gently along his long, thin ones, then traced the lines on the palm of his hand. His hand was so big, it made hers look almost like a child's. Claire flattened her palm against his and Peter bent his fingers so the tips of them closed over her own.

Silently Peter grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his face and pressing his lips against her palm. Claire let her hand drop so it rested against his shoulder as they rested in contented silence.

It was then that her eyes caught something they hadn't noticed before. There was a large photograph on the dresser against the wall next to the bed. It had a layer of dust over the glass, slightly blurring the image, but Claire recognized the two figures in the photo instantly.

"Peter, are we in your old apartment?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I was wondering when you would notice that." He shifted so he was laying down next to her on the pillow, their faces just inches apart as they stared into each other's eyes.

"I didn't even know it was still here, or intact for that matter. It just happened to be the first place I thought of when I teleported us, and it seemed suitable enough," he explained. Their voices were no more than a whisper, as if they were afraid to break the peaceful quiet. "There's no electricity or heating, but…we've seemed to have managed to keep ourselves warm enough so far."

Claire grinned at the mischievous look in his eyes, moving forward so she could press her lips against his. Peter reached down to take hold of her hips, pulling her body against his as he shifted onto his back so she was laying on top of him. He buried his hands into her hair as their mouths moved gently together.

They'd been like this for hours—sleeping ten minutes here, a half hour there, then waking up and exploring the other's body into the wee hours of the morning. Their pace slowed down eventually, not losing passion or eagerness per se, but simply contenting themselves with taking the time to get to know the other.

Exactly how long they'd been there Claire couldn't say, but she knew it was probably early morning. She'd touched, kissed and tasted nearly every place on Peter's body, and he hers, yet she still wasn't satisfied—if given the opportunity, she would stay like this for the rest of her life.

It was amazing how simple life suddenly seemed, anything and everything in Claire Bennet's world now revolved around Peter Petrelli; he could keep her safe, happy, wanted, sane, and most importantly, loved.

Peter slowly pulled back from their kiss, pecking her lips once, twice, three times before nuzzling his nose against hers. Claire leaned her head so their foreheads were pressed together as she gazed down into those never-ending pools of hazel. She shifted her leg so she sat fully astride him, not necessarily intending to do anything just yet, but content to be as physically close to him as possible.

The frown that suddenly appeared on Peter's face threw her off guard. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly as she rose up onto her elbows.

He glanced down at the plump cleavage formed by her pressing against her arms briefly before looking back up at her face. "I just…we haven't used protection at all. Should we—"

Claire gave a small smile and shook her head, "We don't need to worry about that, Peter."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as his hands rested on her hips, his thumbs stroking her soft skin. "What do you mean? There's no way you could have been on birth control while you were in the testing facility…"

Her gaze dropped to his collar bone as she stroked it, letting her hair fall to form a golden curtain around her face for her to hide behind as she whispered, "I'm not on the pill. I don't need to be."

Peter's long fingers brushed her hair back behind her ears, trying to make her meet his gaze, "What do you mean, Claire?"

"I had unprotected sex with my ex-fiancé for nearly three years, and never once did I get pregnant." She bit her lip, slowly raising her eyes to gauge his reaction. She was surprised to see that he mostly looked confused.

"So, you can't get pregnant?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not sure if I'm infertile or if it's the healing…maybe my body sees the fertilized egg as something to 'fix'. I don't know how it works, and the person I could've asked is now trying to hunt me down."

"Suresh."

She nodded, reaching up to comb her fingers through Peter's dark hair, brushing it away from his face. She ran her thumbs over his thick eyebrows, stroked his cheek bones, traced the outline of his full lips. Peter pulled a lock of her hair between his fingers, examined it, brushed it along his wrist.

After a minute of comfortable silence, he looked back up at her, "How come…" Claire glanced up at him and he shook his head. "Never mind."

"No, what?" She cupped his cheek, turning him back to face her. "Peter, you can ask me anything."

He merely looked at her for a moment before sighing. "I thought of this a few times tonight, but never really remembered until now. How come you don't regenerate after sex?"

"You mean…"

"Yeah."

Despite the progression in their relationship throughout the night, a hint of shyness was in Claire's smile, "Peter, I may have lost my virginity when I was eighteen, but my hymen had broken long before then. You know how physical activity can cause tearing and stretch the muscles?"

He nodded, of course he did, he _was_ a nurse after all. Or, had been, at least. "Well I started cheerleading before I started regenerating. All the physical strain I put my body through then must've torn it enough not to make a difference later on."

That mischievous smile was back as Peter flipped them so Claire was on her back, "Well, I'm not complaining…"

Her giggle was muffled by his mouth as it moved eagerly over hers. Just as Claire spread her legs a little wider for Peter to settle down in between them, a faint buzzing sound was heard. Peter pulled his head back from hers, his eyes questioning if she had heard the noise as well. When it sounded again, they looked behind him, trying to decipher what it was.

Out of the blue, Claire's mind filled with a flashback of when she was in high school and that familiar sound was constantly heard in the classroom. She could remember silently praying that the vibrating sound wasn't her own cell phone and—

"Cell phone," she whispered quickly, her eyes flashing back to his.

Peter rolled and sat at the edge of the bed, "Fuck." He quickly glanced around the room, peering into the darkness in search of his pants. He sighed in frustration and raised one hand. Claire watched with intrigued eyes as a pair of pants suddenly floated across the room.

He hastily pulled out the phone and flipped it open, turning back towards her when he felt her outstretched hand tracing the planes of his back. Holding the phone up to his ear, he let out a slightly groggy: "Hiro? What is it?"

He held her gaze as he listened to what Hiro was saying on the other line, reaching out to trace a finger along her abdomen. Claire shivered when he hit a particularly sensitive spot just below her navel; he arched a dark eyebrow and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Right," he said finally with a sigh. "No, we're perfectly fine…we wandered off and didn't realize what time it was until it was late. We found my old apartment and spent the night there…yeah, I know. We're sorry for not calling…we'll be there in ten minutes.

"Apparently Erika was worried sick when we still hadn't returned by six this morning. Melody was afraid you'd gone and done something drastic after she left you in the bathroom," Peter explained with a teasing smile.

She laughed, sitting up and pressing a tender kiss on his shoulder. "You know me, always the drama queen."

As they dressed, Claire watched Peter silently. Her eyes followed the routine movements of his hands as they buckled his belt, then slowly traced up the musculature of his torso before reaching his face. She was particularly intrigued by the scar on his face, still amazed at how he'd managed to get a scar at all with her regeneration ability. She would ask him about it someday, when there were less serious things at hand.

The scar had hardened Peter's features and his eyes were filled with a weariness that hadn't been there when she'd met him five years ago, but his face looked about the same as it did in the photograph of him on the dresser.

"I stopped aging about four years ago," he answered quietly. Seeing her looking up at him in surprise, he gave a sheepish shrug. "I'm normally good at blocking people out, but you somehow manage to get through…you always have."

Claire smiled, not minding the fact that they had only two minutes left to get back to the others as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a long kiss. Peter rested his hands on her hips, allowing them a moment or two before pulling back to grab his coat from the living room.

When they were ready, he reached his hand out to her, which she took eagerly. She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed, "Back to reality."

* * *

"Claire!" a voice shouted when the pair reappeared in the subway station. They glanced over to see Erika heading over to them, pushing past people to get to them.

"Where were you two?" she asked breathlessly when she reached them.

"Peter's old apartment," Claire explained, using the same excuse as the one Peter had told Hiro. "We hadn't even realized the time until Hiro called us. Sorry to worry you."

"Oh, it's alright. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Claire was sure Erika was being sincere, but she felt a bit unnerved by the way her friend was openly staring at her and Peter's clasped hands.

"Claire, Peter, over here," Hiro called out to them. He and Ando stood at the end of the railway, in a more secluded area. Damien, Molly and Melody were with them as well, seated in a pair of plastic chairs.

"What's going on?" Erika asked as the two began to make their way towards their friends. Claire glanced back at Peter once and he rested his hand on the small of her back reassuringly as he guided her over to the others.

"Erika, we're going to be going away for a little bit, try to shut down the TRA and the containment camps. Do you think you can handle being here alone?" she asked as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

Erika's light eyes flickered as her face hardened. "Where are you going? Why can't I go with?"

"Sorry," Hiro answered for her as they approached. "This is a private mission."

Erika crossed her arms and glared at him. "And just who died and made _you_ king?"

"It's nothing personal, Erika," Peter explained quickly. "It's just that we don't want more people to know than necessary."

"I could be helpful though!" she insisted. "Do you know of anyone that can do this?" She stretched her arm up so it wrapped around a pole and came back to them. Everyone watched as Peter arched an eyebrow and stretched his arm out like hers to bring another chair over.

She scoffed. "Okay fine. But I need this just as much as you guys do. You have no idea what they put me through." She turned to Claire, grabbing her hands. "_You_ do, though. Don't you want to get back at the guys who did this to you?"

Claire noticed the way Peter's hands clenched at his sides through her peripheral vision. She looked into Erika's eyes, seeing pain and determination. She sighed and turned to the group, "She has a point. She deserves to go just as much as any of us."

No one questioned her and they all sat around a small plastic table with an atlas on it. Peter turned to Molly. "I need you to find my brother, Nathan Petrelli. Think you can do that?"

"That was him on TV right? I can find him now," she said with a confident nod. She closed her eyes and slowly turned the atlas pages, eventually landing on Washington D.C.

Damien snorted. "Well no surprise there."

"I couldn't exactly tell where he was," Molly admitted. "He looked different."

"He's probably stressed or something," Melody supplied.

Peter leaned forward, "Okay, so our first task is to get to D.C. We need to think of a way to infiltrate the White House unseen. I was—"

"Hiro? I think you guys should look at this," Ando said suddenly. He brought a small television set they'd been watching earlier over, setting it on the table. Nathan was on the screen, he was walking into a building as several men in suits spoke to him and showed him files. In the upper corner of the television screen was a red box with the word _LIVE_ in it.

"Is that for real?" Claire asked breathlessly.

"Looks like it," Peter answered, his face looking just as shocked as she was sure hers did.

At the bottom of the screen were the words _PRESIDENT PETRELLI VISITS GEORGIA. _Everyone around the table was silent as they watched more images of Nathan shaking hands with various men wearing suits. They kept looking at files and then finally stepped into a building that had the Georgia state symbol on the front of it.

Ando spoke hurriedly to Hiro in Japanese, apparently questing what was going on. Molly looked confused, even tried her power again, and winding up with the same answer.

Claire swallowed, "So, if Nathan is at the White House…"

"Then who the _fuck_ is that?" Peter finished.

* * *

**A/N: **_So _sorry for taking so long to update. I don't know what got into me! Busy I guess. No real excuse. Anyway, I know this is short but this chapter was annoying me and I just couldn't get it to come out the way I wanted. Finally its close enough and I can't stand to have it sit here any longer. So I'm just going to post it and hope to move over this bump in the road.

Please comment!


End file.
